Jon took us through a series of images on a computer screen.
We’d never been to the compound of the group we’d been trying to reach when we were ambushed. We’d met them several times though, and they’d described their location as a farmhouse not far from the edge of the city.
It had sounded like a good place to be based, because it gave them access to all the resources the countryside could offer, but was close enough to the city for them to undertake scavenging trips. They’d come across it about a month earlier. It was empty and had been ransacked. The group, numbering about twenty or so, had relocated there as it offered a much better location than their previous base.
They were struggling to survive, but had hoped to make it through the winter with what they could hunt or scavenge, until they were in a better position the following year.
They had been the friendliest and most open of all the groups we’d met, which is why we’d chosen to try to find them first and offer what help the Government had to give.
I looked carefully at the images of a farmhouse surrounded by outbuildings, situated about half a mile from the edge of the city. The location looked right. Jon showed us magnified images of the place, using a mouse to track an arrow around the screen and zooming in on the people. Most of them appeared to be wearing military uniform.
“That’s not right,” I said. “When we met them, one or two them were wearing military surplus coats, but not all of them. Either it’s not them at all or they‘ve been attacked and taken over. I don’t recognise any of the faces, but then I haven’t met all of them.”
“I agree,” said Jon. “We’ll continue our observations and see if we can uncover anything else. We’ll mark them as hostile until we find any evidence to prove otherwise.”
Jon showed us around the control room and introduced us to the people manning the desks of monitoring and radio equipment. T
he CCTV cameras above ground offered extensive coverage and he explained that, as well as the continual visual surveillance, there were motion sensors which gave the operators immediate warning of any movement on the surface.
He showed us on a map the size of the farm in relation to the bunker beneath. As he’d explained early on, the bunker was immense. I pointed to what looked like a quarry on the edge of the farm’s boundary and enquired what it was.
“Well spotted, Tom. That quarry is how we’ve managed to keep this place a secret. It’s owned and operated by a government-owned company. It looks like a normal quarry, but it contains a system of tunnels. These tunnels open up into caverns which we use for vehicle storage. The tunnels extend right through to where we are now. All the waste was taken out by lorry and sold as quarried stone.”
He paused, as though considering if he was giving away information he shouldn’t, but shrugged and carried on.
“For appearances sake, apparently they let off the occasional explosion to give the impression of blasting, but most of the materials removed from the site came from building this base. And as it was a working quarry, people’s suspicions weren’t aroused by lorries going back and forth all day. It was the perfect cover. Simple and explainable.”
Over at the UAV operators’ desks he showed us the live feed from the drone that was currently out there. The operator showed us its current altitude by zooming out with the camera. The view was similar to looking out of a plane window at thirty eight thousand feet. The operator pulled up earlier images, when she’d flown it over our compound. It was fascinating and we could have happily sat for hours watching her work.
I asked where the UAVs were launched from. Jon pointed to a large forest on the map, close to the centre of the fields that belonged to the farm. The map showed a wide fire break running down the middle of the forest.
It was, he explained, the perfect launch site. The forest absorbed what little sound the UAVs made on take-off and landing and, unless there was an emergency, this only took place at night. They hadn’t experienced any problems so far, as they’d only recently begun the flying missions when we’d made contact with them.
After a pleasant lunch with Jon in the canteen, Lieutenant Turner gave us the full tour, both above and below ground. It was all very impressive and we felt confident that the base could provide much needed help and assistance when it came to rolling out the recovery plan. In the early stages, they would have enough food and equipment for the groups who needed it and in the future they could provide ongoing help and protection. Above ground, although there was no way of showing us the entire site, we were taken to a vantage point on some high ground which gave us a good view of most of the land covered by the farm.
We were particularly fascinated by a large field covered by polytunnels. We’d been using greenhouses already owned by some of the residents and had scavenged others by dismantling and rebuilding them, but they were small scale in comparison, and had only been able to provide a fraction of the fresh produce we needed. Polytunnels could provide us with a continual supply of fresh fruit and vegetables all year round. They were relatively easy to build and maintain, and Lieutenant Turner, or Barry, as we now referred to him, said he would arrange for one of the farmers to come and talk to us later.
We asked him how the base was powered and he told us that, depending on how much power was needed, a few different systems had been designed.
There were the usual diesel generators, but even though they had a lot of fuel in storage, they planned only to use these as a last resort. Instead, part of the estate consisted of a windfarm and there was also a small hydroelectric scheme operating from the reservoir.
Once their engineers had replaced any damaged parts, it was hoped that, given the right conditions, the combined use of both would provide most of the power they needed.
“What happens if there isn’t enough power?” I asked, “Do the diesel generators kick in?”
“Oh, no. We haven’t had to use them yet,” he replied.
Curious, I asked “So if you haven’t had to use the diesel generators yet and you’ve just got the hydro and wind power back, what have you been using until now?”
Looking around, to make sure that no one was listening, Barry lowered his voice and said, “There’s a nuclear reactor. It’ll provide more power than we’ll ever need for a very long time. Don’t ask to see it. It’s in a restricted area and for your own safety, your passes won’t allow you access to that area. Even I’m not allowed anywhere near the place.
“We keep it quiet. We’re not exactly hiding the fact that there is one, and to be fair, if you thought about it logically, it’s the only way a base of this size could possibly be powered internally. It’s just that, even though it’s perfectly safe and has all the fail safes and safety features built in, people seem to get nervous when you mention nuclear power. The idea of wind and water power makes everyone feel better, I suppose.”
At his request we agreed not to talk about the nuclear power plant. Apparently most of the military were aware of its existence, but it wasn’t common knowledge among the new civilian arrivals. If anyone asked, they were told the truth. But until then, the policy was not to mention it.
When the tour was over, and we’d walked through what felt like miles of empty corridors and vast storerooms, piled high with a vast range of food and equipment, we asked if we could speak to our families and were told that a five o’clock radio call had been scheduled. Jerry and I both admitted that we were missing them.
We’d spent so much time together in the past months that being apart from them felt unnatural and we were anxious to speak to them.
We made sure that we were at the operation centre well before five.
I let Jerry talk to Fiona first. For the sake of privacy, Jerry used headphones so that only he could listen to the incoming transmission. I tried to wait patiently for him to finish and not to listen in to his one-sided conversation.
Stanley and Daisy were thrilled that I’d met some of the royal family, but far less impressed by my meetin
g with the politicians, as they weren’t familiar with the names of most of them. Becky admitted that she was missing me, but assured me that everything was fine. Everyone was nervous about the plan to attack Gumin’s compound, which was scheduled for the following day. The road was a hive of activity as Captain Berry and Prince Harry organised the soldiers, equipment and vehicles they would be taking with them.
The four volunteers from the road who would be accompanying the attacking force had spent the afternoon undergoing some quick military training in the hope that, if anything went wrong, they would have some idea of what to do and wouldn’t hamper the soldiers’ efforts too much.
They were planning to leave shortly, so that they could be in position by morning. According to Becky, earlier in the day a team of snipers had been dropped off a few miles from Gumin’s compound and were keeping the place under surveillance and reporting back.
After telling the kids and Becky how much I loved them and giving Stanley and Daisy the usual reminders about being good for Mommy, we said our goodbyes. They were followed by Pete, who had an update for me.
Allan had spent most of the day with the military engineers, discussing plans for improving our defences. With the expertise and the machinery they had, any potential weak points could be much improved.
Apparently Allan was ecstatic, particularly as the officer in charge of the engineers had been most impressed with what he’d achieved so far. And the idea of having properly engineered, constructed and camouflaged defensive positions was making him hop around with excitement.
Once the call was over, Jerry and I waited in the operations centre, feeling somewhat at a loss. Everyone around us seemed to have an important job to do, and although it was interesting watching them for a while, we soon felt as if we were getting in the way.
Jerry decided to check on Private Eddy, and as I had nothing else to do, I joined him. Although he was still weak from his surgery the night before, he was recovering well. Hopefully, in a few days, he would be allowed to start moving around.
His wife, Tracy and son, Max were there and I seized the opportunity to tell Max how brave his dad had been and how he’d helped to keep us safe during the attack.
Once the patient was starting to look tired, we made our excuses, and as we were now hungry, we made our way to the canteen to get some dinner. There were many more people there this time and it made you realise how many people called this subterranean world home.
We had the unique experience of the Prime Minister and his wife, both holding trays, asking if they could join us at the table we were sitting at. Inviting them to sit, I introduced Jerry and he immediately thanked him for helping to save Private Eddy’s life.
He obviously didn’t want to talk “shop” so we had a very pleasant conversation about everything but how the world had changed forever and we were now sitting in a bunker, three hundred feet below the Herefordshire countryside.
Finding ourselves at a loose end after dinner and not being able to see anyone we knew, I had a bright idea. “Jerry, I never thought I’d get to say this again. Do you fancy a pint?”
Jerry looked at me sternly. “So let me get this straight. Our wives and children are at home, sitting around the log burner, trying to keep warm as the temperature outside drops to below freezing.
They’ve eaten their meals either in the cold and draughty cooking area or at your kitchen table by the light of a single lantern. In the meantime we’ve had a hot shower and three hot meals served to us in a centrally heated and well-lit canteen and NOW we’re going for a pint in a pub?”
Keeping my expression just as solemn, I replied, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
Unable to maintain his serious expression, he laughed. “Oh, go on then. But we’d better not tell anyone about it when we get home or they’ll all just give up and decide to come here.”
As we headed towards the “Duke of Edinburgh”, I thought about what he’d said. “But that’s the point, Jerry, isn’t it? I’m missing home. This doesn’t feel real. It feels real back home, with all of us living and working together to survive.”
We walked into the pub and made our way to the bar, showing the barman our passes, which authorised him to serve us alcohol.
We ordered two pints and found an empty table to sit at. The conversation continued.
“If, before this happened,” I said, thoughtfully, “I’d been given the choice of surviving a global disaster in a safe and secure bunker, deep underground, with everything provided for me, or trying to survive by scavenging for food and having to protect myself and my family from people who would kill me just for what’s in my pockets… I’m absolutely sure I’d have picked the bunker option every time.
“But now I’m here and, yes it’s very nice and I know my family would be safe … but I’m missing our community. I know everyone keeps telling us how amazing we are and how much we’ve achieved … but we did it together. I’m immensely proud of what we’ve all accomplished. It’s been incredibly hard and we’ve had to do some awful things to protect ourselves, but I don’t think I’d want to swap what we have there for here. Would it sound strange to say that part of me is actually enjoying it? Even when we know that millions have died and millions more will probably be dead before the winter’s over?”
Jerry looked at me for quite some time. “Sorry, Tom,” he said, “I didn’t mean to stare at you, I was just thinking about what you were saying and you know what, I agree with you. I think it might have been a different story if we hadn’t felt as safe and secure where we were, or if we’d run out of supplies. But as things stand right now, I feel the same way. I’d definitely choose our community over this place.”
We raised our glasses in a toast and took a long drink of our pints.
“Jerry, I don’t know about you, but I want to get back home as soon as possible. We’ve had our meetings here and we’ve met the people we needed to see and I’m not sure what else there is for us to do.”
“I agree. I’ve had even less to do than you and you’re right, I want to get back home too.” Looking up, he spotted his brother entering the bar. He appeared to be looking for someone. As soon as he saw us, he waved and began to make his way over.
“Looks like we’re wanted,” I said watching him stride purposefully towards us, an aide following in his wake.
“Found you!” he said.
“Didn’t know we were lost,” I replied, smiling and gesturing towards an empty chair at the table.
“Well this is as good a place as any to talk to you.” He sat down, turned to his aide and politely asked him if he could get us another round of drinks.
When he’d returned, carrying three pints on a tray, Jon told him he wouldn’t be needed for the rest of the night. The soldier saluted gratefully and went off to join his friends at the bar.
“What’s all this about, Jon?” I asked.
He reached into the briefcase he’d been carrying and pulled out a photograph. “I think we may have an answer on that community we looked at today. We flew the UAV over them a few times today, but got nothing conclusive until the last flight of the day.”
We both leaned forward and studied the photograph on the table. It showed the same farmhouse, but this time there appeared to be a large bonfire in the field next to the farm.
Before Jerry and I could ask another question, Jon placed another photograph on top of the one on the table. It showed a close up of the bonfire, with a few people standing in a group beside it. Next to this group was a pile of bodies.
We both looked up at Jon. He said, “I think that answers the question, don’t you?”
The community appeared to have been taken over by the people who had ambushed us. We had to assume that the men in uniform in the photograph belonged to the same group. It seemed too much of a coincidence otherwise. There were clearly too many bodies to be disposed of by digging a hole to bury them, so just as we had done before, they had chosen to burn them.
“What
are we going to do about them?” I asked.
“We?” replied Jon, frowning. “I like your attitude, Tom, but I think this is my fight. They attacked my men as well.”
I disagreed, “No Jon. We knew those poor people, you didn’t. I think I can speak for our whole community when I say that action needs to be taken against these people, and that we need to be involved somehow. Anyway, we could be next on their list of targets; we’re an obvious choice as we’re probably the best supplied and equipped group in the area.”
Jon leaned back in his chair, took a sip of his beer and thought for a moment. “We need to get this Gumin attack out of the way first. The initial reports are good. All our observers are in position and reporting in, and they’ve managed to identify most of the ringleaders. The only unknown quantity is whether Captain Berry’s men will be able to get into position to protect the young ones in the morning and whether the rest of them will rise up against Gumin. They’re fairly confident that the first part of the mission will be a success, because the guard routine looks predictable and very sloppy. The last report stated that most of the guards are already drinking heavily or appear to be high on something. The only problem is that’ll make their behaviour hard to predict.”
“What time is the attack due to take place?” asked Jerry.
“Sunrise is at 06.48 so they plan to be in position before then. There’s no point in it being dark, as they won’t be able to see the planned UAV flypast, so unless something changes, that will be when it all starts. After the dust has settled, we’ll take a look at this other group.”
“Can we be in the control room to observe the attack?” I asked hopefully.
“Of course,” said Jon, “I was going to suggest it anyway. It’ll give you a better understanding of our capabilities in case you need to call on them in the future.”
“Yes, that’ll be useful. Thanks, Jon,” I said. Then thinking about the conversation I’d just had with Jerry, I continued,
“I was wondering when we’ll be able to get back home. It’s been fascinating visiting here and I hope I’ve been of some help, but I’m not sure what else I can do. Besides, I’ve only been here just over a day and I think I’m already getting soft. All these hot showers, and nice meals and... ” looking round me slightly wistfully, “the pub’s great! Maybe when your plan’s up and running and everyone’s above ground, you could keep this place open as a holiday camp, so that people can experience ‘the good old days’ and get a break from the daily grind!”
UK Dark Trilogy Page 29
