The Hurst Chronicles | Book 4 | Harbinger

by Crumby, Robin

  Riley led him by the hand up the spiral staircase, through the narrow opening on to the rooftop of the Gun Tower. Up here, the panoramic views over the Solent, towards the island and the Needles, took your breath away, even in the darkness. The music and laughter could not quite mask the pull and draw of the sea, waves sluicing between the groynes, dispersing their energy amongst the pebbles and rocks.

  “There,” shouted Riley excitedly, pointing to the first fizz of a rocket as it shot skywards. The dazzling explosion sent shards of light reflecting in all directions over the water. As the applause and hollering began to die down, Tommy returned to the launch area, torch between his teeth, fiddling with a box of matches, trying to light the next fuse.

  “I just met your son for the first time,” said Riley.

  “Oh yeah? How did he seem to you? I haven’t exactly been Father of the Year.”

  “Surprisingly well adjusted considering what he’s been through. He was on his third slice of Victoria sponge when I left. Him and Terra seemed inseparable.” Zed allowed himself a deep sigh, aware of how much hard work he had ahead to make up for his prolonged absence.

  “You okay?” she asked, stroking his face, “I was worried about you. You seemed a bit out of sorts earlier.”

  “Sorry, I’ve not been in the mood for celebrating.”

  “You will. Give it time.” She nudged him in the rubs.

  A comfortable silence passed between them, watching the dazzling display, arm around her waist. There was so much Zed wanted to say to Riley, but the words wouldn’t come. She seemed to guess what was really troubling him. “You’re leaving again, aren’t you?” He was momentarily lost for words. “The Colonel asked you to go with him to Porton, didn’t he?” She didn’t wait for an answer, freeing herself from his grasp. “I think you should go.”

  “Wait, what? Shouldn’t you be the one trying to persuade me to stay?”

  “Would it make a difference?” She shrugged her shoulders in mock resignation. “I know you won’t rest until your investigation is over.”

  “It is over,” he insisted, taking her face in his hands. “At least, for me it is.”

  “Look, I’m a big girl. You don’t have to sugar coat this. I get it. This is bigger than all of us,” she mimicked the colonel’s voice. “The world deserves answers. We can’t live in fear for ever et cetera. Don’t worry, Heather and Connor can stay here with me. We’ll be here when you get back.”

  “Wait, Riley, you’re not listening,” he interrupted. “I’ve already made my decision.” He pulled her in close, so their faces were almost touching. “I’m staying right here with you.”

  “Why quit now when you’re so close?”

  “The scales have fallen away. Not even I believe that any more.”

  “Really? You, Zed Samuels stopped believing?”

  “Really. The next phase of this investigation will happen without me. I’ve played my part. Anyway, Donnelly’s already destroyed everything incriminating. We may never know the truth.”

  “Or maybe that’s just what Donnelly wanted you to think? You don’t know that.”

  “It doesn’t matter any more,” he lied, remembering those nights in the cell at St. Mary’s. The constant injections, the interrogation, flashing lights, sleep deprivation. When he closed his eyes at night, he could hear the thrash metal. If he was honest with himself, sometimes he could no longer distinguish between fact and fiction. “I’ve got more important things to worry about. I’m done with all this.”

  “Wait, who are you and what have you done with the real Zed?” she joked, pinching his bicep. “Those drugs they gave you made you numb, confused. That’ll pass.”

  “My head’s clearer now, but I stopped caring,” he said, closing his eyes. “Inside, there’s this emptiness. An impenetrable blackness. I can’t explain, but I know it’s time to quit.”

  “You’re home, that’s what counts.”

  “There’s nowhere I’d rather be, than right here with you and the kids.” His voice sounded forced, like a ventriloquist’s dummy, as if the words were not really his.

  She wrapped her arms around the small of his back, hugging him tightly. “You’re sure this time?”

  “One hundred per cent.”

  “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” she mocked playfully. “Well, if you’re staying, we’ll need to find you somewhere to sleep. Scottie took your old room.”

  “Fine,” he answered, taken aback by her coldness, “I’ll bunk down with Tommy for a while until something comes up.”

  “I’m kidding. I was thinking we could move into the lighthouse. Together.”

  “You mean Jack’s old place?”

  “Why not? It’s empty, being used as storage. I’ve always dreamed of living in a lighthouse. Besides, it’s more private there.” She winked.

  “I don’t know. Are you sure you’re ready for this? It feels a bit rushed.” Zed let the question hang, sensing her insecurity. They had been friends for so long, this felt like a big step, still treading on egg-shells. A curious dance with lots at stake and so much to lose.

  “Look, if you need more time, we could…”

  “Riley, I’m pulling your leg. Of course I want to move in together.”

  She leaned in and planted a lingering kiss on his lips. “Good. Sorry, I’m a bit out of practice with this couple business.”

  “Let’s just take it slow,” he said, pulling her in closer. “My radar’s a little off too.”

  “It’s spending time with all those scientists. They’re all on the spectrum,” said Riley, clearly having a dig at Gill’s expense.

  “I know, I fit right in. Half the time, I don’t even know what I think, let alone what anyone else thinks.”

  “You’re going to need to learn to trust people again. You’ll figure it out. You’re surrounded by people who care about you. That’s your foundation. Build from there.”

  “Sure. I just need a little more time to get my head straight.” He took a deep breath, marshalling his thoughts, saying what she wanted to hear. “It’s like someone rewired my brain and systematically deconstructed everything I knew. Turned my world upside down. I can’t explain.”

  “Donnelly undermined your confidence, that’s what they do. They create a dependency. After Iraq and the war in Afghanistan, I must have treated dozens of servicemen and women, with terrible injuries. The mind plays tricks. Phantom limbs. Shell shock. PTSD patients often report seeing things that aren’t real. Hearing voices in their heads, faces of dead comrades in their dreams.”

  “Tell me about it. I still have flashbacks to being in that damned wheelchair, paralysed, unable to speak, like some waking nightmare. Inside, I was screaming.”

  “When you can no longer trust your own gut instinct, even your own memory, reality becomes a foreign land. Dreams become indistinguishable. I know this sounds hollow, but time is a great healer. With a little hard work and support, I promise you, we’ll get there. But I warn you, left untreated, mental scars can be just as bad as physical ones.”

  “That’s cheery, Doc.”

  “My advice? Stay busy. There’s no shortage of stuff to do round here. Let some good old-fashioned manual labour take your mind off things. Trust me. It works. It’s what I do.”

  “I can’t tell you how much I missed this place. It’s the air. Makes you feel alive, connected to the natural world. You have no idea how dreary things were at St Mary’s. Soul-less automatons going about their days. People half-dead inside, silenced by their grief.”

  “Remember that next time you get itchy feet. We’ve all shed blood, sweat and tears to make this castle what it is. It took me a long time to figure it out. Hope makes this community strong. Once we lose hope, we lose everything.”

  “Perhaps we should graffiti that above the main entrance. Good will prevail.”

  “Jack taught us that human decency, love, honour, even family are words that still mean something.”

  “Worth fighting for,” sh
e said, nodding quietly. “You know Salieri won’t give up.”

  “He wouldn’t dare. Not with me back,” said Zed with a cheeky grin, patting the tarpaulin covering the tripod mounted machine gun on the Gun Tower.

  “You didn’t see the ambition in his eyes. He’ll make life difficult for us. Especially now Briggs has gone.”

  “I overheard the Professor say we may need to leave, temporarily, while they decontaminate, eradicate any trace of smallpox infection, once and for all.

  “I’m not moving for anyone.”

  “We might not have a choice. It would only be for a few days. The UN are setting up a safe zone at Walhampton School, just outside of Lymington.”

  “Briggs’s old place?”

  “He’s gone back in Carisbrooke Castle. Can you believe it? They made him Governor.”

  “I heard. Well, I don’t care what they say, I’m never leaving here again. If the castle needs disinfecting, we’ll do it ourselves. We can self-isolate. We’ve all been vaccinated.”

  He smiled, shaking his head. “God, I’d forgotten how stubborn you can be.”

  Zed fell silent, looking out over the battlements at the rippled waters stretching out past the Needles. Pinpricks of light danced along the shorelines. Cliff End Battery, Colwell Bay, the Needles Lighthouse. From the East Wing came the sound of music. Two guitars and a violin. People in high spirits, dancing and singing.

  There was a polite cough from behind as the colonel clambered through the narrow gap on his hands and knees, out onto the rooftop again. “It’s time,” insisted the colonel. Turning to Riley he added “Don’t worry, I’ll have him back before you know it.”

  “I’m not going, Colonel.” Zed met the colonel’s stare, hands trembling. “My place is here, with my kids. LaSalle’s team is more than capable of finishing what we started.”

  “I see,” said the colonel, barely concealing his disappointment. “I apologise. I’m rushing you. Enjoy the night. You have much to celebrate. Follow along tomorrow when you’ve caught up with old friends.”

  “Don’t you think he’s done enough?” countered Riley. “Look at him. He’s got nothing left to give.”

  “He’s tired. That’s all. Everything will look different in the morning. It always does.”

  “As his newly-appointed physician, I’m placing him on medical leave. Minimum of three weeks R&R sound about right?” Riley winked at Zed.

  The colonel took a breath, considered challenging her medical credentials but relented with a smile, choosing his battles wisely, retiring to face another day. “Quite right. I can’t say he hasn’t earned a rest.”

  “I don’t need more time,” added Zed with growing confidence, “I’m never coming back.”

  “Never say never, old boy,” he said, shaking hands. “Au revoir. Till the next time.”

  “I’ll walk you out, Colonel,” volunteered Riley. “There’s something I need to ask you about.” Zed glanced at her, wondering what she meant.

  “You two go on,” encouraged Zed. “I’ll catch you up.”

  Over her shoulder she whispered: “Don’t be long.”

  Alone on the rooftop, scanning the horizon, soaking up the view he had missed so much, a shiver ran down his spine, pulling his trench coat tighter around his frame, enjoying the peace, the solitude. The temperature had dropped, a cold wind sweeping in from the Channel and the continent beyond.

  Scattered clouds parted to reveal a million tiny stars flickering in the night sky. Alone again, he dropped the pretence of normality. Hot tears of bewilderment, joy, regret, even hope, ran down his cheeks. The full horror of the last few harrowing weeks returned to him. The waking nightmares, the visions, the ghosts. Inside, he felt empty, brittle, barely holding things together. Sometimes he pictured a children’s toy with all the stuffing ripped out, refilled with newspaper. That’s how it felt. Surrounded by friends and family, those with his best interests at heart, he had begun to feel the stirrings of hope, rekindled. Riley was right, he must leave the past behind and focus on the future.

  In the distance, high above the island, Zed spotted a formation of slow-moving lights tracking north. At first he wasn’t sure what they were. A chink of moonlight between the clouds picked out a tight pattern of huge transport planes, heading straight towards the castle. He could hear them now, turbo-prop engines rumbling across the water.

  The music in the marquee came to an abrupt halt as the crowd spilled out, pointing up into the night sky. One of the enormous military cargo planes seemed to adjust course, roaring directly overhead at less than a thousand feet, the ramp at the rear lowered in anticipation. Of what, thought Zed.

  He span round in time to see a parachute deploy. Two figures wearing bulbous helmets silhouetted against the aircraft’s interior lights. A tubular shape cradled beneath, drifting down on the breeze. Zed half expected the white light of detonation, but the canister landed harmlessly with a dull thud on the spit behind the lighthouse, dragging along the shingle. A dozen figures emerged from the castle gates, racing towards the landing zone. Zed wondered whether these were the vaccine shots LaSalle had promised in his speech.

  “Dad,” cried Connor from below, his hand raised, hurrying out on to the shingle. “Look what Anders got me.” It was hard to tell from this distance, but from the bundle of fur he clutched to his chest, it was a puppy. He remembered Anders reminding him that a dog was a man’s best friend and the best way to improve mental health. Connor was thronged by a dozen other children of all ages. Riley and Heather followed a few steps behind, deep in conversation.

  Zed waved, keen to join them. “I’m just coming,” he shouted, cupping both hands. After all the rushing around, it would take a while to readjust to the pace of life here at the castle. He looked forward to the peace, the isolation. Just the tonic he needed to clear his head, to refocus on what really mattered. Cricket on the beach, a pint of homebrew watching the sunset, rod fishing off the spit. He finally understood what Donnelly meant on the helipad. Our actions are what truly defines us. This was where he wanted to spend his remaining days, however long he had left.

  Zed took one last look around him, at the fires of Fawley Refinery, the Chester’s anchor lights in the distance, keeping watch over the Solent. He nodded to himself. It felt good to be home. Life would be different now. He was sure of it. Carpe diem, he thought. Or maybe, carpe noctem. First, he must seize the night.

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  About the Author

  Robin Crumby is the British author of The Hurst Chronicles, a post-apocalyptic series set on the south coast of England in the aftermath of a deadly flu pandemic. Since reading John Wyndham’s Day of the Triffids as a child, Robin became fascinated by end of the world dystopian literature and was inspired to start writing by Cormac McCarthy’s The Road and Emily St. John Mandel’s Station Eleven. Why? Because post-apocalyptic fiction fires the imagination like nothing else. Pondering what comes next, who would survive, what would life look like? His Eureka moment came wandering the shingle beach at Milford-on-Sea, inspired by the beauty and rich history of the Solent. Where better to survive the end of the world than a medieval castle surrounded by water? Robin spent much of his childhood messing about in boats, exploring the many waterways, harbours and military forts of the Isle of Wight, where The Hurst Chronicles series is set.

  Also by Robin Crumby

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  Crumby, Robin, The Hurst Chronicles | Book 4 | Harbinger