Fall of the Cities_A Mercedes for Soldier Boy

by Vance Huxley

  “How many men do you need?” The Last Prophet smiled quietly. “Temporarily, on loan. I have seen your men and an equal number of those will be an acceptable swap, when I need them.”

  “I’d like a hundred at least, maybe more if you can spare them. I assume you’ve got your own problem?” No harm in fishing a little, and the gentle nod didn’t surprise the General one bit.

  “Yes, but nobody who will take advantage while my men are gone. I am surprised your target is to the south. My messengers passed through an enclave to the north, not too far away, that could be a real threat to your rear.” He leafed through a notebook, which meant the Prophet must have someone like Rhys gathering info. “The Professors. They seem to have several rare skills and some real engineers, and are drawing the neighbours into an alliance.”

  “I’ll frighten Benny off when the time comes, then snap them up. Orchard Close is a much bigger prize than the Professors and led by a soldier, not an old school teacher.” The General paused for effect, even though most of the detail had already been thrashed out by Rhys. Even so, he should dangle just a little carrot. “If this deal works out, we might do another when I go for the Professors. I’ll let you know the date for this job three weeks in advance, so your men can filter through without anyone else realising how many are coming.”

  “I’d prefer that, just in case someone gets unexpectedly ambitious while my numbers are down.” After finishing their drinks and a little more talk, the Last Prophet left.

  As the visitors drove away, Patton moved closer to the General. He kept his voice low, so that Rhys didn’t interfere until he’d got a straight answer. “Are you sure, sir? I’m okay with using someone else as cannon fodder, but a hundred of those Children of Cain will be a handful.” Patton frowned after the small convoy. “His blokes think you two are going to combine to take over the whole city, along with some other fucking loony called Conan.”

  “We might, but my sort of alliance. After all, in a month or two I’ll have a hundred blokes in his camp, more if I take a few more of his. He’s right that if we combined the lot, and hardened them properly, we’ve got the men to take on the Army. The thing is, I can’t see those spies in the sky letting us do it. If we tried, I reckon the RAF would drop by and we’d be the star turn in a barbecue. I just want to be big enough,and tough enough, so it’s easier for the government to do a deal instead of losing men to kill us. They can give me and a few of my top men a nice little spot outside the wire, either a country retreat or bossing a few irregulars to help them mop up the rest.” He turned towards Patton, his eyes narrowing. “I trust you with that thought, Patton, but don’t let that shifty little fuck Rhys get any hints. I’m not sure, but he might be already working on his own deal.”

  “Got it, sir. So when do we send for the nutters?”

  “Maybe never, unless Caddi keeps dicking about and we have to take Orchard Close without him. After what those women did to Julius’s men, I’d rather someone else’s people led the attack. If Caddi helps us crack Orchard Close, then we snap up the surviving Hot Rods, we might have enough for the Professors. Even then I still might do that deal, just to get my men into his camp.” The General patted Patton on the back. “Look over your men. We’ll need at least a hundred total lunatics who will stay loyal.”

  “On it, sir.” Patton saluted and moved off, watched by the General. That had been a mistake, letting the boss Bloodsucker know the master plan.Now he’d have to make sure Patton got a deal as well, or a fatal accident before then. He’d have to think about it, but long-term because Patton was the ideal man to turn a hundred or so Children of Cain into Bloodsuckers.

  * *

  Professors:

  This spring looked better for the ex-students than any previous ones. The SIMS had settled into untenanted ruins adjacent to the Mart, taking over a clump of habitable housingin the area captured with the help of Benny’s Boys. The newcomers had set to with a will, spending the winter tearing down ruins to clear ground for their spring planting, renovating houses and building defences. A few SIMS spent long hours with the Professor and the faculty, designing a deterrent that couldn’t be wiped out by one air strike. The rest hoped they’d have built up enough ammunition for the next round with the General, but practiced with crossbows just in case.

  Three goats, one a Billy, were offered, in return for treating a lot of casualties. The Ringer’s fighters had been injured when their neighbours tried to steal the animals, and now the gang had decided the milk wasn’t worth the hassle. A steady stream of Benny’s Boys came to see the animals, some with their families, just for the novelty. Benny himself conceded the Prof’s compound was the safest place for livestock, providing the youngest children in his gang got a share of the milk. Now two and a half gangs waited to see if there’d be the clatter of tiny hooves.

  Several heavily armed men, looking for the General and asking questions about the nearby enclaves, put everyone on alert but nothing came of it. Prof relaxed a little, but not completely. He thought the General would move this way sooner or later, unless he ran into someone as strong, which might not be an improvement. To prepare for whoever finally came after them, Prof let Benny’s Boys have two trebuchets of their own. Some of Benny’s women were training up on them,to avoidtaking men from the front line. The SIMS already had a crew staying with the Professors, training while helping to build their own thrower.

  * *

  Reivers:

  Far to the north, in the ruins of Inverness, the watchword was stealth. Everyone knew the government had attacked, and won. Now the virtually deserted city had become a no-go zone, with a line of emplaced soldiers and armour sealing the southern borders. The ruins themselves had turned into a low-level killing zone of aggressive patrolling, squad actions and snipers. Oberfeldwebel Klaus Huber watched over the snow-swathed vista, careful to make sure his breath didn’t show outside his cover. The wire from his spotter couldn’t be hacked or overheard, a blessing because these so-called civilian rebels were more professional than any other mob he’d fought. “Klaus? I think this one is a messenger. She’s a bit young for fighting, even here,but you know the orders.”

  “Nein.” During the actual assault, the front line troops ended up killing anyone who moved, man, woman or child, but Klaus wasn’t doing that in cold blood. He could understand what happened in the heat of battle, after all the suicide attacks and bombs, but a line had to be drawn somewhere. Otherwise he was just a murderer for hire.

  A muffled crack sounded, and a curse came down the wire. “Someone else shot her.” Neither said who, even if both of them were certain who’d fired the shot. The pale-faced, dead-eyed shooters brought in by the paramilitary troops weren’t snipers, they were cold-blooded killers. Another shot sounded, but from ahead. “I think we’ve found him.” After a brief pause the wire continued, “Or her.” They’d seen fighters of both sexes now.

  The quiet voice began to talk Klaus onto the target, hopefully before the sniper moved. He hoped this sniper was a man, or that at least he couldn’t tell. He also hoped the rebel sniper had killed whoever shot the girl. If it wasn’t for his daughters, he’d steal a boat and go back across the channel. Klaus cleared his mind, concentrating on doing his job and buying their safety. Maybe he really was a killer for hire, but on his own terms.

  *

  At one in the morning on the northern bank of Loch Ness, beneath an overhanging bush, the water bubbled, surged and then parted. Willing hands reached to help a black-clad figure ashore. A man poured hot coffee and brandy between her chattering teeth, then two men half-carried her through the trees to a well-hidden fire. Another man, wearing a uniform, waited. “How is she?”

  One of those carrying the woman picked up a towel and blankets. “She’ll make it. It’s too cold by rights.”

  “Try telling her that. I’ll not forbid it because we need the information, but I didnae ask.”

  The man with the towels snorted. “No need tae ask, Angus. Knowing you need
the information is keeping her alive, or she’d push too hard and get killed. Now give us time tae thaw her out.” The uniformed man retreated into the darkness, while the other two helped the woman out of her wetsuit before swaddling her in blankets and offering hot broth.

  Half an hour later Angus, the uniformed man, looked up from the sheaf of hand-drawn maps. A heavily muffled figure came into the room. “How are ye, Lisa?”

  “I’ll do. Is that what you wanted?” She scowled, not easy with her features still stiff from the cold. “I passed up two good chances because you don’t want anyone to know I’m over there. They were easy, drunk as skunks. When can I go back to killingthem?”

  “Soon, but not until we are ready.” Angus repeated why, again, because otherwise Lisa might decide she’d waited too long.”You are our only trained diver, and have the only set of kit, so you’re the only one who can get across there in this weather. I need this information without them knowing, so that we can break that line wide open. I promise you”—his smile had no humour but a lot of anticipation—”there’ll be enough bodies to satisfy even you.”

  “No there won’t.” She turned to go and he barely caught the last bitter words. “There’ll never be enough.” Angus didn’t argue, because he knew exactly how she felt, and why. Lisa had followed the lorries out of Inverness, to try and break her dad and little brother free. She’d lost track of their lorry, but there were plenty of them carrying prisoners so she’d found the destination. There’d be no prisoners coming back out of that place, dead or alive. Angus had made Lisa a solemn promise, in return for her promise to delay her vengeance until spring. If she helped him getenough fighters through the lines, he would make sure the last people to die there would be the Specials who ran it.

  Angus checked through another file. On the east coast, a very peculiar boat neared completion. Other Reivers were going to deliver a special message for Easter, one demonstrating just how it felt to have their families targeted. Two other groups were training for suicide missions, Lisa wasn’t the only one willing to die to get payback. Eventually, Angus packed everything up and headed back into the mountains. He had a lot of new recruits in training, men and women from Inverness who were every bit as bitter as Lisa. Bruce needed them ready for his army and time was running out.

  * *

  Cabal:

  Safe and warm, the Cabal were enjoying the thought of all those rebels freezing and starving in the snow. Everyone relaxed, enough so thatfor once Vanna and Joshua stopped sniping at each other about the relative merits of contractors versus regular Army. Apart from guarding convoys and Marts, and the sniper teams, Vanna’s contractors in Scotland were in their barracks for the winter. Those were situated next to the tank repair shops in case the foreign troops became restless. The foreign troops were being rotated out of the front lines for R&R, the ones with families taking the opportunity to travel south to see them. Seeing their wives and children safe and sound reminded the soldiers and pilots why they had to do exactly what the controllers told them.The dependents of the foreign soldiers were housed in Rosyth, just north of Edinburgh and well within the range of several artillery emplacements and the guns of the naval vessels in the dockyard. Just as telling, troop transports were moored nearby where they could be used to transport the dependents back to Europe.

  Across the UK, in the other cities,the gangs kept killing each other as planned. As Maurice and his agents built or destroyed alliances, one or two Cabal members started worrying about the size of some gangs. Both Vanna and Joshua scoffed, claiming that armour and air power would deal with them. Boris and Henry still thought the best of the enclaves should be saved, to help settle Europe once the big push started. They’d be loyal enough out of gratitude, because they’d seen the alternative, and because of all the fertile land they’d be given. Henry didn’t push hard when others refused to even discuss it, but after some thought about what happened to Nate, he approached Joshua. The Army man seemed remarkably unsurprised by a request for regular Army bodyguards.

  Henry wouldn’t have time to worry about rescuing anyone, not for a month or two. He’d be too busy organising the planting of this year’s crops.

  *

  Cyn Palace:

  Oddly enough, the Sinners and their allies were also thinking about the benefits of armour and air power, and wanted to save at least some enclaves. Their problem was finding a way to stop the armour, then hopefully any saved enclaves could help them to spoil the rest of the government’s plans. For now, however, these alleged gangsters would be busy with exactly the same job as Henry’s work gangs. In their case, using manpower instead of machines to dig the fields wasn’t to fool anyone, it was necessity.

  Uninvited Guests

  Outside the cities, especially in the Army, more and more people weren’t being completely fooled. So far, none of them realised the whole truth. Even the most paranoid never imagined that the whole government, and a large part of the world, were now run by a small group of ruthless conspirators, but some were getting close. One evening, a few days after the Barbie visits, the loudhailer called Harold up to the bypass near Orchard Close. He spent the time walking up the access road wondering why. Maybe the flirting had begun interfering with the soldiers or some officer had found out, because the soup and chips party were all girls now. When Harold saw the Lieutenant,that seemed likely, especially when Harold was allowed through the sandbags and taken aside along with the sergeant. Sarge didn’t seem too happy.

  Harold realisedthat flirting wasn’t the problem because neither the Lieutenant waiting to greet him,nor the Captain who’d just got out of a Land Rover,wore unit badges. That usually meant Special Forces, like the SAS. “Could I check your ID please?” Harold handed it over. “Good. Where were you stationed before demob?”

  Harold gave his unit and glanced at Sarge, but the NCO lookedworried and a little bit curious. “We were down in the Southeast, supposed to be getting a rest.”

  “Resting after what?” This was all in his records, but if this Lieutenant wanted to hear it?

  “The Gulf. Kuwait, when the mad mullahs decided the locals were too cosy with the hated infidel.”

  The Lieutenant nodded, so he did know. “Was that your last action?”

  “Depends on what you call action.” The soldiers had been involved in some very bloody confrontations that didn’t come under any normal military duties.

  “Live firing. We all had to stand off rioters with bayonets at some time during that period.” Sarge nodded, unconsciously, so he’d been in that sort of situation as well. The Lieutenant inspecting Harold’s ID glanced up sharply. “Well?”

  Harold sighed because he still didn’t like remembering. “London estates and then the shit-fest in Calais.”

  “That was wrong. We should have made the Frogs sort the mess out.” Harold stared, shocked. This was the first time he’d heard any officer admitting any mistake was made. “Do you have a stick?”

  Harold’s head spun for a moment untilhe made sense of the question. They were finally getting to the whole point of the visit. “Yes, it’s down there.”

  “Still got the jewellery?” That had to mean the medal. Harold gestured to Orchard Close. “Could you bring the stick up, please? Just to confirm everything.”

  “Okay.” Harold walked quickly because the Lieutenant had to be one of Stones’s mob, SAS, and had been poking about in Harold’s records. Harold tried to figure out why, and hoped they had word aboutthe missing soldier. Despite claiming she’d got over Stones, he thought Tessa would want to know if he’d survived.

  Working on that idea, as soon as he arrived back Harold asked the Lieutenant,”How is Stones? His son is down there.” Hepointed at Orchard Close. “Right under that Union Flag.”

  The Captain spoke up. “We both knew him, but he was still in Kuwait when contact was lost. Still, Stones is a resourceful sort so you never know. How are Tessa and Eddie managing?”

  Harold’s interest sharpened. The Captain pr
obably knew Stones very well or at least had access to his records, very restricted records. Stones wasn’t married so not too many knew the name of his son’s mother, or even that he’d had a son. “Better now. They live with my sister and her two kids. Her husband, Freddie, didn’t make itback from the Ukraine.” These men wouldn’t know Freddie but would know what Harold meant.

  The Captain nodded in understanding. “A lot didn’t, too many. May I?” He held out his hand so Harold handed over the stick. The officer held it with both hands, and Harold heard the click as the blade released. The Captain nodded to the Lieutenant, clicking the catch back in place and handing the stick back to Harold.

  The Lieutenant turned to Harold. “You still practice?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Not sir now, you’re a civvie.” That was the Captain again, these two were a double act. “Word got around, and we thought we’d check if this chap we’d heard about was the right one. A few of us are making visits here and there before the regulars leave, and the Lieutenant and I thought we’d drop by for old time’s sake. We’d like the right enclaves to survive until the Army get back.” The Captain held out his hand for the Lieutenant to pass him a bag. “This is a bit naughty, but we prefer to pay our debts. I knew those lads in Kuwait,in the lorry.I thought this might help. Not much but I can’t leave you a rifle and two thousand rounds, or a box of grenades.”

  When Harold took the small backpack, not an Army one, it had something very heavy inside so he had a look. Only a polished wooden box, nothing like big enough for the weight,so Harold rested the backpack on the sandbags to have a proper look. He opened the boxlid and smiled at the revolver inside, though he still couldn’t figure out why it weighed so much. The Captain shrugged in apology. “Only six rounds but the lads made sure it’ll work. Keep it for when the bastards close in.”