by David Moody
I'm scared. Every time one of the soldiers near to me moves I catch my breath, not because I'm afraid of them, but because inside I'm screaming with frustration, desperate to fight and to kill the evil scum which is holding us captive here. But I know that I can't. There are too many of them and they are too heavily armed. If I dared show my intentions they would destroy me in seconds. I can't let that happen but it's getting harder and harder to keep these emotions under control. I know that elsewhere along the line other people have been unable to hold back and have paid for it with their lives. Just a few minutes ago I heard a single scream of rage followed by a hail of bullets in the gloom behind me. The silence around us now is somehow even more frightening than the sounds of fighting and death which preceded it.
As the day has dragged on it has become impossible to see either end of the line. In the low light I can only see as far as about thirty people ahead of me and a similar number behind. I'm sure that the queue has grown hundreds of people longer. Twice in the last hour or so convoys of empty trucks have driven past us. Logic says they've brought more people here and they're now back out on the streets again looking for others.
The girl in front of me is swaying on her feet again. I can't let her fall. I shuffle forward slightly and put my hand out to steady her.
'Come on,' I hiss under my breath, 'not now. Try to hold on…' I don't even know if she can hear me over the driving rain.
Something's happening up ahead. I can't see anything but I can definitely hear something. I peer into the gloom, desperate to try and see what's going on. Are people finally starting to move? For a few seconds longer I'm unsure but then an unexpected ripple of movement works its way along the line to a point where I can finally see what's happening. We're starting to shuffle forward. A sudden wave of awkward, stumbling movement reaches me and for the first time in hours I start to walk. My legs are agonisingly stiff and every step takes a massive amount of effort and coordination. For a moment I stupidly feel relieved when the pain in my aching legs begins to fade slightly, but then I start to think about what we might be walking towards and the panic returns. I know that making a run for it is out of the question for now. Just putting one foot in front of the other is difficult enough. I don't have the strength or the energy to be able to move any faster.
The soldiers continue to march alongside us, keeping their distance most of the time but occasionally hitting and shoving those of us who move too slowly or who stumble out of line. Just ahead another one of the men who travelled in the same truck as me drops to the ground. He's old and tired and he lies on the gravel track sobbing. I keep walking - I have no choice - and I listen as one of the soldiers yells at him to get back to his feet and keep moving. I wish I could do something to help. I daren't look round. I hear a single gunshot close behind me and I know that his suffering is over. My fury now feels harder than ever to contain. Despite my exhaustion the urge to turn on these soldiers and fight them - to kill them - is growing stronger by the minute and is almost impossible to suppress. It's only the obvious fact that any reaction would inevitably be the last thing I do that keeps me in line.
We've stopped again.
Almost as quickly as the movement began it now ends. I have no idea how far we've moved. I don't know how much closer to it I now am but I assume the people at the front of the queue have finally been led down the track towards the entrance to the building.
41
Christ it's cold.
The cloud cover has lifted slightly and, for a while at least, the rain has finally eased. The building up ahead has been illuminated by a series of bright floodlights which shine up from the ground and make it look like some bloody gothic cathedral or fortress. Although I can see it more clearly now I still have no idea what the purpose of it is. Is it some kind of quarantine centre? None of this makes any sense. If they've brought us out here to kill us then why not just do it? Why waste all this time and manpower keeping us in line and collecting up bodies? For some of the poor bastards here in the line with me a bullet in the head would be a relief. But maybe that's what this is all about? Maybe they just want us to suffer?
After hours of inactivity we've now made three sudden stop-start shifts forward. This time I counted the number of steps I took. I think we moved about a hundred paces forward. Logic says a similar number of people have just disappeared into the building up ahead of us.
Another convoy of recently-emptied trucks thunders past. Another few hundred people added to the end of the queue.
The noise of the trucks quickly fades into the distance but I can hear something else now. I can hear a plane, and the sound of its powerful engines many miles above us makes me realise just how quiet the rest of the world has become. The plane is moving with incredible speed. It must be a jet or something similar. I'm wary about making any sudden movements and looking to the sky but I can't help myself. Keeping my head as still as possible and just moving my eyes I search the heavens. And then I see it. A dark metal blur which races at a phenomenal velocity across the horizon from right to left. Even some of the soldiers have become distracted now.
Now there's a second noise. A belly-rumbling roar which I can feel through the ground beneath my feet. This noise comes from a different direction. It seems to swirl and drift in the wind before becoming louder and more definite. It's coming from behind us. I look up and watch as a single flash of light sears through the darkness miles above our heads, racing towards the jet in the distance. Was it another jet? A missile?
It can only last for a few seconds but the delay feels like forever. I watch the white light in the sky as it hurtles towards the jet and then crashes into it, taking it out with incredible, pin-point precision. For a second a huge ball of expanding orange flame hangs in the purple sky. It has all but disappeared by the time the thundering rumble of the explosion reaches us.
We shuffle forward again.
I'm another few meters closer to the building but, for once, what's waiting in there for me is not what I'm thinking about. Instead I'm trying to work out what I've just seen happen. Regardless of who was flying the plane and who launched the missile, that was a purposeful and very definite attack and it finally gives me a little glimmer of hope. Someone, somewhere is still fighting.
42
The fear and panic in this part of the queue has reached an unbearable level. We're still moving. A relentless on-off shuffle down towards the building in the field. The nervousness of the soldiers around us seems to have increased too.
Is this a slaughterhouse? Are we going to be neutered? Have they developed a 'cure' to make us like them again? Frightened thoughts rush through my mind at a thousand miles an hour as I get closer to the building. Whatever happens in there I know I've almost reached the inevitable end of my journey. The last day has been hell but I'd go through it all again to trade places with the person at the very back of this queue. I'd give anything to put off going through those dark doors in the near distance. Despite the fact that I'm surrounded by hundreds, probably thousands of people like me, I feel completely alone. Just a few days ago everything was relatively normal and all of this would have seemed impossible. A week ago today I was sitting in the pub with my family, oblivious to everything that was about to happen to us. I think about losing Liz and Harry and Ed and Josh and it's difficult to contain my emotions. I think about Ellis and I feel like I've been stabbed through the heart.
We move along the road like we're on a chain gang. All we're missing is the shackles around our feet. Over the constant dragging sound of hundreds of exhausted footsteps I think I can hear something. There's a noise in the distance. It's quiet and indistinct but it's definitely there. A deep, far-off rumbling. Is that thunder I can hear or something else? The rain continues to lash down all around me and the low light makes it all but impossible to see what's happening away from the building.
Progress is slow but I wish it were slower still. I'm already halfway down the track which runs from the front of the
building to the road and now, for the first time, I'm close enough to see some of what's happening around the entrance. The track is packed solid with people who queue up behind some kind of heavily guarded canvas-covered checkpoint. It's hard to see any detail, but from here it looks like an immigration control desk or customs point at an airport. A steady stream of people are moving past the checkpoint and are being herded into the main part of the building. They look over their shoulders in desperation as more rifle-wielding soldiers push and shove them forward. I don't even want to think about what's in there. One thing is painfully obvious - there's no apparent way out. People are going in, but as far as I can see no-one's coming out.
There's now just a few short meters between where I'm standing and the checkpoint. Up ahead there's more panic and confusion as someone breaks from the queue and attempts to run. This time they're on their own. No-one else is running with them. The lone figure which sprints away in the direction of the towering silos to my left is brought down by a hail of bullets, far more than are necessary. And bizarrely, as soon as the body is on the ground more troopers scurry across the front of the building to collect it. Instead of leaving it where it fell they pick it up and, between them, carry it inside. What the hell are they doing?
There's another noise in the distance. It has to be thunder.
We move forward again and now I'm close enough to hear some of the conversation at the checkpoint. My heart is beating at a hundred times its normal rate and my legs feel like they're about to buckle and give way beneath me. This time it has nothing to do with my tiredness, this is sheer terror. I can feel the minutes of my life ticking away and I'm devastated that it's going to end this way. Maybe I can attack, I think to myself again. Can I summon up the energy for a final strike? Am I ready to die fighting? This is my very last chance. I can see Patrick just ten people or so ahead of me. If I could somehow get his attention then just maybe together we could do something… Who am I kidding? I look at the nearest soldier with his rifle poised and ready to fire and I know that the odds are too one-sided to even dare consider. It would be over before I'd been able to kill even one of them.
'Name?' one of the officers at the checkpoint yells at the next person in line.
'Jason Mansell,' the man replies, his voice quiet and resigned but still carrying the slightest hint of anger and resistance.
'Date of birth?'
He answers. He's also asked for his most recent address and, while he's answering, it finally dawns on me why these bastards are treating us like shit but are also strangely concerned about our bodies. We've been stripped of all individuality and yet they still want to know who we are and where we're from. The answer is obvious - it's a bloody census. They're carrying out a bloody census of us. If they want to completely control us and wipe us out, then they have to know where every last one of us is. That was why they attempted to identify us when we were first taken at the house this morning. That's why they collect the bodies of the dead. They have to know who it is they've killed to make sure we're all accounted for. I stupidly think about giving them false information when it's my turn but I know it won't do anybody any good. As I get closer I see that they're also taking swabs from people's mouths and they're using devices to scan their eyes and palms. Christ, we must be a hell of a threat to them. They're running scared.
Another rolling roar of thunder. Storm's getting closer now. Patrick has disappeared from view and there are now just four people left ahead of me in the line. We're moving with an uncomfortable speed. People are being processed at a frantic rate which seems crazy. We've been stood out here for hours. Why start rushing now?
Three people. Wish they'd slow down.
Two people.
Now I'm next. I stand a short distance back behind two soldiers and watch as Karin is processed. I watch helplessly as one of them slams her hand down flat onto some sort of scanner as another one holds her eye open and scans her retina with another device. A few key presses on a computer keyboard and she's finished and shoved towards the dark opening to the building. There are solid lines of guards on either side. It's clear that once you're past this checkpoint there's nowhere else to go but inside.
'Name?' the officer at the desk shouts as I'm pushed forward.
'Danny McCoyne,' I answer. I glance to my left and see that there's a rifle pointing at my head. Just do what you're told, I think to myself, just do what you're told.
'Short for Daniel?'
I nod.
'Answer!'
'Yes,' I mumble.
He asks my date of birth and my most recent address and I tell him. My right hand is then grabbed and scanned. Another trooper reaches up and with rough, clumsy fingers prises open my eyelid and uses the device on me. It has a bright light which I wasn't expecting. It blinds me temporarily.
'Send him through,' I hear the officer order and I'm pushed forward into the darkness. They're definitely speeding things up now. There are too many of us being sent through too quickly. I stumble and trip towards the back of a bottleneck which is quickly forming. Behind me I hear the next person being processed.
Less than ten meters now separates me from whatever fate is waiting inside this place. I still can't see anything from here, just a huge pair of dark doors and the steady stream of bodies which go through them. Like so many of the desperate people I've already watched I helplessly glance back over my shoulder. I can't see much but I know there are hundreds and hundreds of people behind me.
There's a sudden noise which takes everyone by surprise. It comes from two directions - from the back end of the queue and also from the other end of the road we were originally queuing along. Even the soldiers appear confused for a second. Many of the troopers surrounding me turn and look back across the field.
It's an attack.
Jesus Christ, someone's attacking from both sides.
In just a few seconds the scene degenerates from resigned calm and relative order into uncontrolled madness. I have no idea who is doing this, but I can see the bright headlights of cars and motorbikes and other random vehicles converging on this building from many directions. They're not just on the road now, I can see them driving across the fields from all around. Fucking hell, this is a coordinated attack.
I stop walking and try and turn back.
'Move you fucking scum,' a soldier screams at me and I'm hit hard in the middle of the back with something that knocks every scrap of breath out of my body. The force of the impact sends me tripping even deeper into the crowd being pushed through the open doors. I try to resist but I'm struggling to breathe and I can't do anything when more rough arms grab me from either side and throw me forward again. I'm inside now. There's a concrete floor beneath my feet and a high roof over my head which finally shields me from the rain. Behind me the sounds of gunshots and explosions ring out and are suddenly muted as the heavy doors I've just passed through are shut.
It's dark in here and I can hardly see anything. I'm continually pushed and shoved forward until I can't go any further, the mass of bodies in front of me preventing me from moving on. We're tightly packed and it's clear that they've shoved as many of us as they can in here to get us away from whatever it is that's happening outside. The crowd here is silent - unable to move and hardly able to breathe. I can hear a constant soundtrack of muffled shouts, screams and explosions coming from outside.
A sudden crackle of radio static and the soldiers guarding us move again. Up ahead another set of doors is opened, immediately releasing the pressure and allowing the crowd to flood forward into another huge room like water roaring through a suddenly breached dam. I don't want to move but, like everyone else, I have no choice. I know that the deeper I go into this building, the less chance I have of getting out again but there's nothing I can do. I'm carried along by the sheer weight and pressure of everyone else around me and we're all driven forward by the fear of the guns which are constantly aimed at us.
Space.
Unexpectedly I find my
self in space and I'm able to move freely. I stop walking and spin around, desperate to try and get my bearings. The light levels in this room are unnervingly low and the people around me are terrified. They're screaming and shouting and yelling for help. I watch helplessly as the doors I've just come through are slammed shut and locked from the inside by more soldiers. These are wearing a different uniform than the others. They're wearing some kind of facemask. Is it a gasmask? It can't be, can it…?
Dead bodies.
My eyes are rapidly becoming accustomed to the low level of yellow light and I can see bodies. Jesus Christ, this room is full of them. They're everywhere - shoved up against the walls, piled up on top of each other around the edges of the room, laid out in lines on the floor… my worst suspicions and fears were right. This building is a slaughterhouse. They've brought us here to kill us. They're cataloguing us and destroying us.
I have to get out. I run back towards the closed doors but I'm kicked back into place by one of the masked guards. I've lost all self-control now and I have to fight. I know these soldiers are armed but I don't have any choice and I know I'm dead anyway. I pick myself up and run at the guard again with a speed, strength and determination I didn't know I possessed. I launch myself at him and knock him off his feet before he has time to react. I'm aware of other people starting to fight all around me as I wrestle away his weapon and rip off his mask. He looks up at me with cold, hateful eyes as I punch his face again and again, pounding his flesh with my fists. I continue long after I know he's lost consciousness. I can't stop until I'm sure he's dead…
There's a round of gunfire behind me. I spin around and see that one of the other soldiers has opened fire into the crowd. Many have already fallen, the rest of us try and run for cover but there's nowhere to hide. In desperation I grab the beaten body of the soldier beneath me and haul it round in front of me like a shield, hoping that it will take the force of any shots which come in my direction.
