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METAMORPHOSISSmashwordsEdition
PublishedbyA.G.ClaymoreEditedbyB.H.MacFadyen
Copyright2012A.G.Claymore
Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,
Characters,Places,IncidentsandBrandsareeitherproductsoftheauthor’s
imaginationorareusedfictitiously.Theauthoracknowledgesthetrademarkstatusandtrademarkownersofany
productsreferencedinthisworkoffictionwhichhavebeenusedwithout
permission.Thepublication/useofthesetrademarksisnotauthorized,associated
withorsponsoredbythetrademarkowners.
OtherTitlesByAndrewGlen
Claymore:
http://agclaymore.blogspot.ca/p/available-titles.html/
Table of
ContentsSpinBuldakUNRouteControlCentralLondonEastLondonFromtheAuthor
SpinBuldakKandahar Province –AfghanistanMay13,2016
Liamstaredattheroughwooden door of his room.Something was definitelydifferent. In the fifteenmonths since his capture hehad rarely spent more than afew weeks in the samelocation. Every few days, hiscaptorswouldpulladustysack
over his head and throw himunder a tarp in the back oftheirquarter-tontruck.Usuallythedrivewasnomorethananhour,butsometimeshewouldbouncearound thebedof thetruck for an entire night,chokingonthedustthrownupfrom the unpaved roads.Occasionally, he would rollagainstanotherhostage,buthewas always gagged so
introductions wereproblematic.
There was always apattern under the chaos;indicators that proved hiscontinuingvalueasaprisoner.Every few hours, an unarmedguardwouldentertheroomtocheckonhisshackles,watchedby two stone faced men withtype 56-I assault rifles, aChinese variation on thevenerable Soviet AK-47.
Sometimes they would bringfood, other times they wouldjust kick Liam awake beforechecking his bindings. Evenafter so many months ofcaptivity, they still consideredhimadangerousprisoner.
They had good reasonto.
Fifteen months earlierthe rocket-propelled grenadehad missed the aft engine ofthe Chinook but managed to
sever the controls for themassive rear rotor. The hugeblades feathered, refusing tohold up the back end of thehundred-foot-long transport.The engine, suddenly free ofresistance, changed to a high-pitched whine. The helicopterbegan a sickening, spiralingdance, its tail swinging everfaster as the ground blurredpasttheopentailramp.Liam’sC7 assault riflewas torn from
between his knees, striking aman across from him beforecartwheelingouttheback.
If they had not beenclose to landing before theRPG strike, Liam knew hewould never have made it tothegroundalive.Ofcourse, iftheyhadnotbeenlanding,therocket wouldn’t have posed athreat. His captors hadunderstood when best to usetheiroldSovietweapon.
The spiral violentlyshiftedtoanewpivotpointasthe open ramp caught on aridgeofboulders,spinningthefrontendaroundthesuddenlystationary tail. The starboardside of the fuselage slammedinto the rocks with athundering roar of rendingmetal and shattering rotorblades. Liam’s harness heldhim to the port side of theaircraftandthedeformationof
theairframeabsorbedmuchofthe force, leaving him bruisedand unconscious. When hecameto,histhroatwaschokedwith the soot of burning fueland rubber seals. He washanging in his harness, ninefeet above the wreckage andthewounded.
Not all of them werewounded soldiers. He noticedseveral men in local dressmovingamongtheinertforms
ontheground.Onemanbentover the loadmaster, assessinghiswoundsbeforemovingon.Liamunderstoodwhathewasseeing–theywerelookingforprisoners and wouldn’t wasteresources to keep a severelywoundedinvaderalive.
These were the menwhohadshotthemdown.
Heslidahanduptothequickreleaseonhisharnessasthe man moved over to a
trooper who lay, moaning,almost directly below. Placinghis boot against the remnantsofthenowverticalfloor,Liamhit the release andpushedoffwith his foot. He landed ontheman’s back as he stoopedover the wounded soldier,driving him forwards and offto the side. Pulling his knifeout, he drove it through thebase of the man’s skull,scramblinghismotorcontrol.
The struggle had drawnattention. Three more mencamefrombehindasectionofthewreckage,AK-47’sheld attheready.Liamkneltrootedtothe ground, frozen in the actof cutting the sling of theKalashnikov strapped to thebackofhisfirstvictim.Hewastryingtoworkoutthelogisticsof getting it into action whenthe balance of force shiftedbackintohisfavor.
DanrajRai,asergeantinLiam’sownregimenthadbeenin the Chinook. He wasreturningfromKandaharafterbringing inahigh-levelenemyprisoner and Liam had beenabsurdly pleased at the man’sfriendly greeting on thetarmac. Rai’s reputation wassuch thatmanyyoungofficersactively sought his approval,knowing itwouldcarryweightwith the tough, gritty men of
the regiment. Such panderinghad always struck Liam asfalse,andthoseofficersusuallyended up washing out. Liampreferred to simply treat himwith the same respect that heshowed to all of hismen.Hewanted their respect, but hewantedittobegenuine.
ThetoughNepalesehadbeen a member of the famedRoyalGurkhaRiflesuntilHerMajesty’s Government
announced in 2007 that allmemberswho signed up afterJulyof thatyearwouldqualifyfor automatic citizenship.Danraj, who had alreadyservedforfiveyears,wouldbeoverlooked by the newlegislation and transferred outof his beloved unit in protest.The Special Air Service hadfound a natural recruit inDanraj, and he quickly earnedthe respect of his fellow
troopers. Even during theweek-long enduranceevolution at the BreconBeacons, he had remainedimpervioustothehardships.
Liam knew the storiesabouttheGurkhaRiflesbuthehad never thought to see ademonstration. The SAStrooper still carried his deadlykukri knife and now he cameto his feet behind thehindmost of the three men,
bringing it in from the right,slicingtheheavy,curvedbladeclear through theman’s neck.He reversed the blade,stepping forward andbackhanding it against thesecondman,takingthesecondhead before the first had hitthe ground. Liam froze inshockforamoment.That’sjustthe sort of diversion I was lookingfor. Liam sawed at the slingwith all his strength. Feeling
the strap part, he cocked theweaponandbroughtitintohisshoulder with a smooth,practicedmotion.Theburstofheavy 7.62 mm projectilesstitchedacrossthethirdman’storso just as he was bringinghis own weapon to bear onDanraj.
The sergeant grinnedandnoddedathisofficerasheknelt to take an assault riflefrom one of the dead men.
Liam grinned back, strugglingtoholdinarackingcough.Theman’s a bloody psychologicalweapon. As the sergeant wascocking theAK-47,aburstofrounds hit him in the back,punching out the front of hisbody and cutting the strap onthe right side of his load-bearingwebgear.Withagruntof surprise, Danraj pitchedforward onto his face. Hisrighthandgraspedforthehilt
of his knife as Liam ran tohim.
Dropping to a firingcrouch, he shouldered hisweapon to fire short bursts atthe four men approachingfromthesamedirectionasthefirst three, but they scatteredbehind boulders as soon astheysawhimappear.Thehairson the back of his necksuddenlystoodonendandhespunaround,throwinghimself
totheleft,ariflebuttnarrowlymissing his head.His surpriseassailant had been thrown offbalancewhenhisstrikemissedand Liam wasted no time inputting a three round burstinto his torso as the manstaggered to find his footing.He spunback to thebouldersbut pulled the trigger on anempty weapon. He took amagazine from the belt of adead warrior. He was just
ejecting the empty magazinefrom his weapon whenanother man came over theslopebehindhim.
Liamdroppedhisemptyrifle and drew his sidearm,squeezingthetriggeroftheSigSauer P226 only to find thatthe roundwas a dud. Cursingwhatevercoalitioncountryhadprovided the ammunition, hethrew himself at the man,planning to smash the absurd
look of relief from his face.The man was too stunnedfrom his glimpse of certainmortality to bring his rifle tobear. Liam heard a satisfyingcrunchofboneasheimpactedtheman.Wasthathisribsormyown collarbone? In the rush ofadrenalinehecouldn’ttell.
Anddidn’tcare.The twomen sliddown
the slope bringing them intothemidst of eightmoremen.
Seeing he was unarmed, theypulled him to his feet only tofind that he had managed toget thepinsoutofoneofhisflash-bangs. The blast blindedthe men and impaired theirbalance while Liam, partiallyconditioned to the effectsduringhistrainingatHereford,began to weave his way backup the hill, knowing that hehad to rearm himself anddefendhissergeant.Hecursed.
Should have taken one of theirweapons. The flash-bang hadmuddledhisthinking.
Whenhecrestedthehillhe found himself staring atfour armed men plus a fifth,betterdressedandcarryinghisassault rifle slung over hisshoulder. It was all over. Thewell-dressed man, obviouslythe leader, was holdingDanraj’s kukri in his hand ashe looked up at the SAS
officer. “One of yours?” hehad asked, nodding towardsthe sergeant. Liam’s shouldersslumped.Hestareddullyattheman, knowing an answer wasneeded. Finally he simplynodded.
“A Gurkha,” thewarlord said inmingled tonesof anger and respect. Helooked back up at Liam. “Ifmen like this follow you,” hesaid,acalculatinglookcoming
intohiseyes,“Thenyoumustbe a man worth a greatransom.”
Am I worth anything?thoughtLiam.Mysisterishardlyrich.Mywifehasabrother,buthe’smorelikelytoaskthemformoneyifthey contact him. As to being aleader of men, he had neverfelt easy in command. It waswhat had driven him to applytotheSAS.Hehadwantedtoprove himself, to re-forge
himselfas thekindofmanhehad always wanted to be. Hefound himself tested on analmostconstantbasis.Hismenwere the epitome of initiativeand it was all he could do tokeepupwiththem.Mostdays,he wasn’t really sure who ledwhom. He never felt that hewas a bad soldier, but he stillwasn’tsurethathewascutouttolead.
“Bettertodiethanliveacoward,” the warlord said,looking down at Rai’s stillform,thentranslatingitforhismen.Liamwatched themnodin approval as their leaderlooked back at him. “Theirmotto is obviously more thanjust words.” He raised aneyebrow.“Isupposeitdoesn’tapplytoofficers?”
Liamhadbeengivennochancetoanswertheinsult,as
a rifle butt had crashed intothebackofhisheadbeforehecould begin to frame aresponse.
Fifteenmonths later, hestaredatthedoor,stillnotsureif he was meant to leadsoldiers but dead certain thatsomething fundamental hadchanged about his currentsituation. He hadn’t seenanyoneforoveradaynow.Hewouldhavebeenthrilledtoget
a solid night’s sleep for thefirsttimeinoverayear,buthefound himself waking everythree hours, to find that no-one had bothered to come inandkickhimawake.IwonderifI’ll have to re-learn how to sleepmore than twohoursata time, hemused as he walked over tothedoor.
He stood before thedoorforamoment,wonderinghowhecouldgetitopenwhile
he was still in shackles. Betterlistenfirst,hethought.Ifaguardis out there, I wouldn’t want tostartle him into shooting me. Hesteppedforwardandleanedhisshoulder against the door sohe could place his ear againstit. As his ear touched therough wood, the door swungoutintothenextroom,spillinghimontothefloorwithadullclatterofhand-forgedchains.
He rolled to his feet,looking around the emptyroom. The only furnishingswere a table and chairs,smooth wood worn bycountless decades of use. Inthecenterofthetable,apieceof paper was pinned to thesurfacebyakukri.SergeantRai’sblade, thought Liam as hereached out and pulled theheavyweapon free.He pulledthe paper off the tip; it
containeda simplemessage inEnglish.
You’reworthless.Gohome.Nothing I haven’t thought
already, he half-joked tohimself. Liam looked at thetwo other doors in the room.One showed bright lightseepinginunderneath.Thesun,he thought.Haven’t seen the sunin more than a year. He wassurprised by a suddenreluctance to approach the
door. After so long incaptivity, he had becomeaccustomed to the brutalcomforts of routine. He hadwithdrawn into a protectiveshellwheretheworldcouldn’treach him. He took a deepbreath.
Change loomed beyondthatdoor.
Thomas…He took a moment to
straighten his uniform, filthy
and torn though it was. Hisboots were still intact but hislaces had been taken away onthe day of his capture. Hewalkedtothedoorandpushedit open. He closed his eyes,raising a hand to shield themfrom the unaccustomedbrightness, his chains clinkingwith soft, reassuringfamiliarity. Gradually, his eyesadjusted to a point where hecouldopenthemagain,though
hekepthishanduptoreducetheglare.Itwascold.
Somanypeople.He seemed to be
standingacrossthestreetfroma market. A row of houses,perhaps two hundred feetlong, had open fronts and afew even sported awnings toshield the shopkeepers andtheirgoodsfromtheelements.An open ditch ran along theside of the road, crossed at
intervals with makeshiftbridges of timber and metalsheeting.
Some of them weresellingfood.
Liam was suddenlyaware that he hadn’t eatensince lunchyesterday.Forget it,mate. You have no bloody moneyand you don’t even know theirlanguage.Just findawaytocontactaNATOunit.He scanned theshop fronts, oblivious to the
looks he drew from thepedestrians as they flowedpast.
“Planning to mix it up,are you?” The voice camefrom his right and Liamlooked over to find a man inhis mid twenties smiling athim.Hewore traditional localgarb,butofbetterqualitythanmost of the people walkingthroughthemarket.
“Mix it up?” Liam said,bewildered by the phrase butrelieved to find someonewhospoke English. “I wasn’tfeeling particularly belligerentatthemoment.”
“Well that’s good tohear.”Theyoungmannoddeddown at Liam’s right hand.“You might find us a littlemore peaceful if you put thatgiantbladeaway.”
Liam was surprised tosee that he still held Rai’skukri. He shoved it into hisbelt with a rueful grin. “Doyou know where I might getmy hands on a phone?” Henoddedover at themarket. “Iwas hoping to find one overthere, but I don’t have anymoneyonmesoImayhavetopromise payment when mypeoplepickmeup.”
Themangrinned.“Icanhelp you there,” he said. “Wehave a phone at my house.”Withagestureheindicatedthedirectionandtheybothmovedoff down the street. He gaveLiam an appraising glance.“You’retheTommietheytookfrom the big helicopter lastyear?”WhenLiamnodded,hewenton.“Looks likeKourashdoesn’tfeedhisprisonersverywell. You’ll join me for some
food?”Liamknewheshouldbe
more suspicious but a year inisolation had a way ofchanging how you reacted topeople. He felt a strangeexhilaration to be talking toanyone and, though he knewhe might be walking intoanother trap, he couldn’t tearhimself away from humancontact justyet.Healsoknewthat to accept the first offer
would disappoint this man.Fortunately, his unit heavilystressed the learning of localcustom.“I shouldn’t impose,”hesaidsmiling.
Theyoungmanwavedadismissive hand. “It would beno imposition, I assure you.”Hisexpressionshowedthatheapproved;Liamwasobviouslyin need of some decent food,but he was still making an
efforttobehavelikeacivilizedman.
“You’re very generous,”Liam responded, hoping hewasn’t talking himself out offood. “But I’m sure you are abusyman.”
“NotsobusythatIcan’tspare food for a new friend,”the young man flashed afriendly grin. “You’ve hadfifteen months of the worstsort of hospitality. I wouldn’t
want you to think ill of mypeople. I insist; you shouldcomeforchaiatleast.”
“I would be honored.”Liam turned to face the manproperly.“LiamKennedy,”hesaid,extendinghishand.
“MirBacha,” the youngman responded, shakingLiam’s hand to theaccompaniment of softrattling. “Let’s go over to the
market and have a blacksmithtakethosechainsoff.”
Heledthewaytoastallwhere a bull of aman with asooty salt-and-pepper beardandpakolhatcrouchedoverasmallbrickforge.Ayoungboysatinthedoorwaybehindhim,hand-pedaling a bikewheel todrive a bellows. The smithpulled out a glowing strip ofmetal from the forge,pounding out the shape of a
knife blade on a small squareanvilathisfeet.
As it became apparentthat MirBacha was coming tosee him, he shoved the bladeback into the forge, greetingthe young man with a smileandanod,onehand touchingover his heart. MirBacharesponded in kind beforeexplaining with a fewsentences in Pashto, alongwithageneralwave,indicating
Liam’s chains. His exchangecomplete, he turned back totheyoungofficer.“Hesayshewill takethemoff inexchangeforthechainsthemselves.Youdon’t have any emotionalattachmenttothem,doyou?”
DoI? thoughtLiam.Theonegood thingabout the last fifteenmonths has been freedom fromdecisions. Not having to constantlymake life-or-death choices thatmayormay not be to the liking ofmen
with far more experience than Ihave. He shrugged. It’s time tostophiding frommyresponsibilities.“He’swelcometothem.”
As the chains fell away,Liam’s arms began to rise oftheir own accord; accustomedto compensating for the extraweight, they now had to berecalibrated. MirBachawatched with amusement asLiam took his first unfetteredsteps in front of the small
shop, his face reflecting awonderhehadnotanticipated.
“Come, first I will seethat you have a proper meal,then,when you feelmore likeyourself, you can call yourpeople.”MirBachaledthewayback across the market andintoasidestreet.
“Your accent soundsAmerican.”Perhapshelivedthereforatime.
“Not quite American,”heshrugged.“Myfatherwasarelatively wealthy man, so hesent me to study at King’sCollege in Halifax. I spent ayear there, just making sure Ihad a solid grip on thelanguage,thenfivemoretogetmyEngineeringdegree.”
That didn’t sound right.“Wouldn’tthathavegivenyoua British accent? Halifax is
somewherenearLeedsunlessImissmyguess.”
MirBacha sighed inmock exasperation. “YouEnglish,” he said with the airof a man educating a slowchild.“Quitepossiblytheonlypeople on Earth who don’tknow anything about yourformer colonial days.” Heindicated another turn andtheysetoffagain.
Hecametoaheavygateset intoanine-foot-highstonewall andgesturedLiam inside.As MirBacha was closing thegate, Liam saw a young girl,perhaps ten years old, lookingat him from the doorway ofthe house. “My sister,”MirBacha said, as shedisappeared into the home.“She’s the only reason I’mhelping you.” He came tostand beside Liam. “NATO
soldiers came here two yearsago,builtaschoolandtoldusit would be safe for ourchildren.” His face darkened.“Then they left.” He lookedover at Liam, watching hisresponseashetalked.“Politicalwinds back home, they told us.Their whole contingentsuddenly pulled out ofAfghanistan in a matter ofdays.”
ShemustbeclosetothesameageasThomas.Liamhadnowayof knowing where his sonwould have been sent afterKate died.He hopedThomaswould have been sent to hisaunt on the Channel Islandsbut he had a sinking feelingthat he had been placed withKate’sbrotherbecausehewasmoreconvenient,andhe livedin Britain – in a run-downcouncil home. Kate’s death
wastheonepieceofnewsthathiscaptorshadtoldhimabout.
Kourash had told himpersonally and Liam feltcertainthathehadnotdoneitto wound him. They hadlearnedofherpassingthroughaninterpreterwhoservedwiththe British. They had beentrying to find out whether hewaswortharansomwhentheylearned of the news. He hadwalked in alone and crouched
infrontofLiam.“Captain,”hepausedforamoment,hisfacegrave. “Your wife has died inanaccident.”
Liam suddenly felt hehad lost his tie to reality. Hehadspentmonths incaptivity,wonderingwhatKatemightbedoing, how she might becopingwithasmallchildandamissinghusband.Shehadbeenhisanchor,theonesuretythathe did, in fact, have a life
beyond his currentconfinement.Hecouldfeelhismind slipping away but itgrasped for a handhold.“Thomas?”Thesoundstartledhim. He hadn’t spoken for along time and he was mildlysurprisedtolearnthathecouldstillusehisvoice.
Kourash nodded. “Hewas sent to relatives.” Hestood. “My condolences,Captain.LikemostAfghans, I
am no stranger to personalloss.Iwishitonnoman.”Hewentoutthroughthedoorandit was the last time Liam sawhim. Two months later, hefound himself walking thestreetafreeman.
MirBacha waved Liaminside, retrievinghimfromhispast. “The weather’s about tochange,” he said as theywalked through thedoor.Theinterior was well furnished.
Comfortable cushionssurroundedabeautifulsilkrugand Liam stepped out of hisboots at the door, amused bythe convenience of having noshoe-laces. They sat as theyoung girl brought out atablecloth, spreading it acrossthe rug between them beforedisappearingintotheback.
“Two weeks after thetroops left,” he continued asthegirlreturnedwithacopper
basin, “a gunman shot up theschool.Mysister tookabulletin the leg.” His gaze wasdistant, remembering, angry.Liamwashedhis hands in thebasin and watched as theyoung girl’s approach broughther brother back to thepresent.Hewashed his handsandreturnedtohisnarrative.
“If a British unit hadn’tbeen patrolling the borderroad, shewould have lost her
leg. Their medics were verybusy that day.” He frownedagain,choosinghisnextwords.“Weweregratefulforthehelp;five young girls were helpedthatday…”
Liam was aware of alight patter of rain that hadbeguntofallashishostspoke.He broke into the narrative.“But that help wouldn’t havebeen necessary if our NATOallyhadremained?”
“Exactly. You comehere and extol the virtues ofyour political system but howoftendoesitpreventyoufromfinishing what you started?Howmanymissionshave youbeen pulled from?Howoftenhave you been promised newequipmentonlytobetoldthatit wasn’t in the budget?” Heshook his head. “You can’tdrop democracy in our lapsand expect it to be an
overnight success. Especiallywithanexamplelikethat.”
Liam, normallyunemotional, occasionallyfoundhimselfcaughtunawaresand unprepared by strongfeelings. His host’s story hadcreptinunderhisguardandhesuddenly realizedhow shallowand selfish his own choiceshadbeen.Hehadbeen tryingtoprovehimselfbyjoiningtheregiment. It was considered
thebest-of-the-bestandhefeltthat success in leadingmenofthe SAS would help him toovercomehisownself-doubts.
How foolishwould thatsound toayounggirl, lying ina dusty schoolyard with herlife’s blood seeping into thedirt? How meaningless itwould sound to her brother,the friendly young man whohad welcomed him into hishome.
How contemptible itsounded in Liam’s ownmind.So what reason did he have,now, for remaining in themilitary?
Theyounggirlreturned,filling two glasses with teabefore returning to the nextroom. Her brother followed,sensing his guest’s discomfortand giving him a moment tocomposehimself.Hereturned,carrying a heavy tray loaded
with several dishes while hislittle sister carried a smallertray of naan. Once the foodwasdepositedinthemiddleofthetablecloth,MirBachasatonthe cushions. “Please, helpyourself,” he said, waving atthechoices.
Liamwasted no time inloading a piece of naan fromthe various dishes in front ofhim. The food was deliciousand Liam was not so certain
that his hunger was inflatinghis opinion. He had been toseveral meetings with localofficials and they invariablyserved food; hospitality wasvery important here. It wasone of the high points of thejob.IwonderwhyI’veneverseenanAfghanrestaurantbackhome.
“So what will you donow that you are free?”MirBacha had finished eating
and was pouring two cups oftea.
“I shouldbeeligible forcompassionate leave,” Liammused, thinking seriouslyabout the future for the firsttime in months. “I’ll find mysonandspendsometimewithhim.” He suddenly imaginedThomas lying on the groundwith abulletwound inhis legandhegrimaced.Ifhe’swithhisuncle,hemaywellendupthatway.
His brother-in-law lived in adangerouspartofLondon.
MirBacha handed him acup of tea. “Compassionateleave?”
Liamnodded.“Ilearnedamonthagothatmywifewaskilledinanaccident.Mysoniswithrelatives.”
“I’m very sorry to hearthat,” the young man saidsoftly. “Surely the UN willsendyouhomeimmediately?”
“TheUN?”Liamasked,loweringhiscupun-tasted.
“Well, NATO,essentially,” the young manconceded with a grin. “Butthey have been under UNcommand since our visitorsbeganbuildingonMars.”
“Visitors?” Liam asked.“What visitors are you talkingabout?”
MirBacha’s eyes grewwide. “Truly? You know
nothing about what hashappened on Mars? Kourashandhismen told you nothingoftheoutsideworld?”
“Truly,” Liamresponded.“Ihaveeatenyourfood;Iwouldnotlietoyou.”
“Five months ago, thecolonyonMarswaswipedoutby little green men – wellnobody seems to know whatcolor they are but the general
consensus is that they aren’tfriendly.”
Liam laughed, sure thathis hostwould join in, but heremained serious. He reallyseems to believe that. Perhaps it’stimeformetomakethatcall.“Areyou telling me that aliensattackedtheMarsoutpost?”
The youngman noddedwith a pained expression. “Irealize that’s a hard one tobelieve,”headmitted.“Ididn’t
believe it for quite some timemyself but everyone kepttalkingaboutit.It’sthereasonfor theUNtakingoverhere.”He sethis teadown. “They’reorganizingtheresponseaswellasourdefenseshereonEarth.When you talk to your fellowsoldiers,youwillseethatIamnot just telling you amusingstories.”
Intended or not, theyoung man’s mention of
Liam’s colleagues was asuitable opportunity for Liamto take his leave. “Yourhospitality is matchless and Ithank you for the excellentfood,” Liam began, “but Ishouldget incontactwith thenearestmilitaryunit.IfImightuseyourphone?”
His host stood andwaitedasLiamrose.“Itmightbemoreconvenientformeto
take you to the nearest unit.”Hegrinned.
Liamknewheshouldbealarmedby thesuddenchangein plan but every instinct toldhim that the young manintended no mischief. “Thereisaunithere?”
“In the old fort,” hewaved a hand towards thecourtyard. “My house was onthe way and I doubted thatyourmesshallwouldbeopen
atthemoment.”Hemovedtothe door. “Let’s get youhome.”
UNRouteControlSpinBuldak,AfghanistanMay13,2016
“Welcomeback,CaptainKennedy!” Major Williamscameoutfrombehindhisdeskto shake hands.Hewas a tallthinman with a shaved head.Though he wore the blueshoulder wrap of the UN,Liamcouldseefromhisothershoulder that he had comefromtheUSportionoftheold
NATO contingent. “So howdidyougetaway?”
Liam shrugged. “Theygot tired of me I expect. Iwokeupthismorningandtheywereallgone.Alocalmanwaskind enough togetmeoutofmy chains and provide mewith a meal – two hundredmetersawayfromthegatesofthis base.” He smiled at howclose he had been to friendlyunits, not only while enjoying
hisrecentmealbutalsoduringthe last two months of hisconfinement.
“Well, we aren’t reallysurewhattodowithyouatthemoment,” the major said,glancingnervouslyatthetableton his desk. “Men with yourqualifications aremostlybeingearmarked for training at theMars analogue site onHawaii,but it may depend on whatyouroldunithasbeendoing.”
MirBachahadbeen telling thetruth, after all. The Americansighed, then looked up atLiam. “Listen, maybe youshould sit down for amoment.”
Liam had an idea ofwhatwasinhisdossier.“Sir,ifit’s about my wife, I alreadylearned about it from mycaptor.”Hetookadeepbreathto calm his mind. Despitebeing confined alonewith the
knowledge for the last eightweeks, it still threatened toswamphimfromtimetotime.
“I see.” The major satbehindhisdeskwithalookofreliefandopenedthefile.“Wedohaveabitofgoodnewstoreport,” he looked up.“SergeantRaiisfullyrecoveredand back with his unit as oflast month.” The man smiledatthelookofshockonLiam’sface.“He’llbegladtoseeyou,
I bet! He’s currently inEnglandwith the rest of yourunit. He gave quite a glowingaccount of your actionsfollowingthecrash.”
I would have thought hiswounds were fatal. He waspleased to hear of Rai’s highopinion, but then heremembered the image of theyoung girl with the limp. If Icontinue to serve, it has to be for abetterreason,he thought. Itwas
ironic that the approval thatwould have felt so gratifyingonly hours ago, now onlyservedasareminder.MenlikeRai placed their faith in him.Liam owed them competentleadership in return. Thecalculation had shiftedfundamentally for him. It wasno longer about gaining a paton the back from society; itwas about accepting theresponsibilities of the life he
had chosen. “Rai must havebeen rescued within minutesof my capture,” Liam mused,glad that the man hadsurvived. He looked down,suddenly remembering. “Thisis his,” Liam said simply,pulling the heavy knife fromhisbelt.“He’llbegladtogetitback.”
“Now that’s a knife,”themajorsaidinabadparodyofanAustralianaccent.
“Sir?”“Nothing.” The major
shook his head ruefully. “Justshowingmyage,Isuppose.”
Liam suddenlyremembered a much moreimportant question. “Doesthatsaywheremysonis?”
Williams turned to histablet and navigated throughLiam’srecordswithafewtapsbeforeturningitaround.“He’s
withaMr.Corbin inLondon.Yourbrother-in-law?”
Typical bureaucracy,thoughtLiam.RatherthansendhimtomysisteronGuernseywherehecouldalsobenearKate’s family,they send him to his unemployeduncle who lives in a run-downcouncil home. Leo would begetting extra governmentincome from having hisnephew and he was likelyspendingmostof itonvodka.
OfallofLiam’sresponsibilitiesthiswasthemosturgent.
Andthemostneglected.“Major,howquicklycan
Igettransporthome?”
CentralLondonEnglandMay17,2016
Liam had been shockedat the changes in the city.London had always had aproblem with crime but thepolice were now almostcompletely overwhelmed byunrest caused by the neweconomic realities. Mankind’sfirst contact with an alienspecies hadn’t gone very well.
ThevisitorshaddestroyedthefledglingISShabitatandsetupproduction facilities on theplanet’s surface. They wereusingtheredplanettostageaninvasionofEarthandtheUNwas now coordinating theconstructionofafleetinorbit.
A ruinously expensivefleet.
All the nations of theworldwerecontributingtotheproject. The amount assessed
to each nation was based onthe relative strength of itseconomy which spread thepain evenly around theworld,orsothetheorywent.Nationsthathadpreviouslyspenthugeamounts on their militarieswereabletomothballfleetsofequipment and cancelprocurement plans in anattempttoscrapetogetherpartof their contribution to theUN-managedproject.
Nations that spent hugesums to maintain publicservices such as socializedhealth care and livingassistance–nationslikeBritain– also scaled back theirexpenditures, but with muchuglier results. It was hard toargue against a cancelledaircraft carrier, but a parentwho could no longer obtainmedical care for a sick childmadeforaveryangrycitizen.
For decades, politicianshadchanneledmoreandmoremoney into thenation’s socialprograms in an attempt topacify the growing populationof urban poor. It was themodern version of Rome’sbread and circuses, the oldest ofpolitical expediencies in thenewestways.Fedandhoused,the mob could sit at homewhere the circus was broughtto their television screens
everyday–scandals,comediesandwars.Alltheyhadtodoinreturn was give up their ownvoice.
Now that the bargainwasbreakingdown,thevoicesweregrowinglouder.
Protest marches oftenmaterializedoutofthinair.Noone was certain whether theywere organized orspontaneous, but they alwaysheaded for wealthy areas of
town and they almost alwaysended in an orgy of violentdestruction.
Tent cities werespringing up all over thecountry as social-livingassistance was reduced withevery new sitting ofparliament. As more peoplefoundthemselveswithnothingto lose, the crime rateskyrocketed. A person with astarving family will think
nothing of smashing a shopwindow to grab food. Peoplewerekilledforlittlemorethanthe warm clothing on theirbacks.
The economy began toshiftasmoreconsumersfoundthemselves better served bythegrowingblackmarket.Thepricesmightbe slightlyhigherbut there was no 20%Value-Added Tax and thrivingundergroundmarketsappeared
to serve the quickly-growingdemand. The service sector,representing three quarters ofthe nation’s GDP, was in atailspin.
Britain,oncetheworld’spre-eminent superpower, wasonthevergeofcollapse.
The police, backed upbythemilitary,hadshutmanyofthemarketsdownbutitwasa losing battle. They alwayssprangbackup in amatterof
days. Despite their haphazardlayouts, they were closelycontrolled by a small handfulofcriminalsyndicateswhohadno compunctions aboutmaking an example out ofbrash policemen who didn’thave the sense to look theotherway.
In every major city,entire zones were cordonedoff by the military in anattempt to prevent the
cancerous spread of theunregulated,untaxedeconomy.They quickly became lawlesssectors where no outsiderwould dare to venture. Thelargest andmostdangerousofallthesesectorswasknownasEchoLimaOne,ormoresimply,Sector One, encompassing halfofEastLondon.
And that was whereThomaswasliving.
Thoughsocialassistancewas crumbling, thegovernment checks forTommy’s carewere still beingsent to his uncle. Thepoliticians knew the votes ofthemobwerealostcause,butthey didn’t dare lose thesupport of the military.Dependants of servicepersonnelwerestilleligibleforfull socialassistance.Asoldierrisked his life for his nation,
butwouldhestandagainsthisown countrymen to protectthe government? It was adifficultquestionatthebestoftimes, but if his family weresuffering, the answer wouldalmostcertainlybe‘no’.
At the very least, thesteadyincomewouldkeepLeofrom turning the boy out tofendforhimself.Ifhewasstillalive.
“Lordloveyou,sir,”theScottish staff sergeant at themotor pool exclaimed. “If yergaun t’ breenge up t’ EchoLimey,taketheladsalong.”Heshook his head in amazementat the young officer’sfoolishness. “An’ not in somepaukit Land Rover neither.You come back with yergemmies and I’ll havesomething better ready foryou. I better gee it mysel –
there’llbefistycuffs.Youmarkm’words.”
“Er, yes.” Liam stoodacross from the counter fromthe huge man, looking at thealmost feral glint in his eyes.Whatever the cause, Simpsonseemed eager to come along,and he was right about theLand Rover, if Liamunderstood him correctly. Itwould only advertise thepresence of an easy target to
the more adventurouselementsof SectorOne. Ifhewent,itwouldhavetobewithoverwhelming force.Something thatnobodywoulddareinterferewith.
“Well, then…” At thebest of times, he foundSimpsonincomprehensiblebuthewassurprisedtorealizethathe had the basic gist of histirade this time. Is he going easyon me because he knows why I’m
going into Sector One? “Thankyou,StaffSergeant.I’llbebackinacoupleofhours,then.”
“Aye.”Themannoddedhis approval. “Give the littleschemers an hour or two ofdark and they’ll be into thevino-collapso.”He rubbed hishandstogether.“Thenweturnthebogiesloose!”
Liam headed for thebarracks. Most of his menwere single and preferred to
liveonthecheap.Hefrownedas he walked, surprised at hisnewattitude.Afewshortdaysago, he would never haveconsidered his present courseof action. The man he hadbeen last week would neverhave had the nerve to walkinto the barracks and ask hismen to help him withanything.Hewouldhavebeentoo afraid that they might
refuse.Tooafraidthatitwoulderodehisstandingwiththem.
When he had stoppedworrying about approval andstarted concentrating on hisresponsibilitiesherealizedthathewas the sort of leader thathe had always wanted to be.Themenhadseemedtosensethe change and appearedrelieved to finally have acompetent officer. Liam wasreasonably sure that some of
themwouldbewillingtocomewith him to rescue Tommy.I’ve already doubled my force, nowthatSimpsonseemstowanttocome.
It was just after five intheafternoonwhenhewalkedintotheH-hutthathousedhismen.Theywererelaxingintheusualcacophonyofconflictingmusic and shoutedconversations, waiting for themess hall to open for dinner.Rai was there, on his bunk,
restoring his recently-returnedbladetoitsformerglory.
The man had beenwaiting for Liam when histransport landed and hadgreetedhimwarmly.Liamwastouched by the gesture. Hehadn’t expected anyone to bethere and hewas glad that hehad taken pains to bring thewicked-looking knife back toEngland.AsRaidrovehimtotheirbarracks,he filledhim in
on what had been happeningin Britain. Liam had found italmost harder to believe thatthe news of the aliensthemselves.
Now, as the mengradually became aware oftheir officer’s presence, thechatter and music died away.They looked at himexpectantly, curious at thetroubledlookonhisface.
“I’m going into EchoLimaOnetonight,”hebeganina quiet voice. “My son wassenttherewhenKatediedandImean tobringhimout.”Hetook a moment to composehimself but, before he couldtell them that hewanted theirhelp,theybeathimtoit.
“We’llbe ready togo inten,”Raisaid,slidinghisknifeinto the sheath on his belt.“That’snoplace for a child.”
He pulled on his boots andstartedlacingthemup.
Itwas as simple as that.Liam looked around at thesudden hive of activity.Everywhere,menwerepullingon ballistic armor and takingtheir weapons from bedsidelockers. Liam fought hisemotions and lost. He turnedforthedoortohidetheriotonhis face. He had never feltmoresure thathebelonged in
the military. He finallyunderstood; this unit was hisfamily.
A family that waspreparingtorisktheirlivesforhisson.
Every single one ofthem, and they seemedrelievedthathehadasked.
He remembered thatthey had been waiting fordinner. “I’ll pick up fieldrationsfromthequartermaster
before they close for thenight.” It would be a longnight, but they could at leasteat something on the way. Itwas best never to fight on anempty stomach if you couldhelpit.
“Nobloodytuna!”threeor four of themen chorused,almostinunison.
Liamlaughed.“Meetmeat six at themotor pool.”Hestoppedatthedoorandturned
back. The room slowly grewquiet again. “Thank you,” hesaidlamely.
“Youwoulddothesamefor us, wouldn’t you, sir?”Lance Corporal MacKinnonsaid it more as a statementthan a question, but Liamnodded without hesitation.“Then it’s a good thingSimpson stopped you fromgoing alone and making anorphan out of your son, isn’t
it?” He pitched slightlyforward as the man behindhim checked the fit of hisarmor.
“Simpson?”Liambeganbut trailed off, shaking hisheadinwryamusement.Thesewere the kind of men whowouldn’t wait around to seewhat happens.Of course theyhad taken steps to preventtheir officer from running offandgettinghimselfkilled.
“We’vehadafewpeoplewatching out for you,” Raiexplained. “We figured youwould have to see Simpsonunlessyouplanned towalkalltheway.”Hegrinnedasheslida sidearm into the holster onthe front of his vest. “Youdidn’t really plan to do thiswithoutus,didyou?”
EastLondonEnglandMay17,2016
Tendrils of smoke rosefrom the sector, light greyagainst the darkening sky.Some indicated homes withfireplaces but most were fartoo thick tobeanythingbutaburning structure. Liam stoodin the open roof hatch of hisvehicle, looking down a streetrunningparallel to thebarrier.
Most of the windows weredark, the houses abandoned.Nobody wanted to live thisclose to a lawless zone andMillionsofdollarsinrealestatehad been left to rot. Graffitidecorated any surface withinreach from the ground. Someenterprising individual hadfound a way to tag the upperstories of a nearby buildingwith an anti-governmentslogan. Trash blew about the
pavement,slowlybeingpinneddownbythegrowingrain.
The silence wasoverwhelming. He had neverexpected to find a part ofLondon so quiet. There wasno traffic, no flow ofpedestrians, no huckstersselling cheap cologne inexpensive bottles. All thebackground sounds ofnighttimeLondonweregone.
Thispartofthecitywasdead.Behindhimwas theoldworld. The investment banksand electronic stores. In frontwas the new reality. Achurning, mutating societywithbrutalrulesandconstant,desperateinnovation.
He wasn’t sure whichsociety would end upsurviving.
Heat rose out of theopening around him, carrying
the smell of gun oil andhydraulicfluids–thesmellsofhome.Thecomfortingrumbleof the armored car’s dieselengine blended with thesecond vehicle behind them.Truetohisword,Simpsonhadbeen waiting for them in riotgear with two German-builtFuchsTPz armored scout cars.The six-wheel drive, ten-passenger armored cars couldtravel at highway speeds and
provided excellent protection.Liam especially liked thediesels. The British Army’sprevious generation of lightarmor had relied on gasenginesandhehadneverbeenfond of going into a fightsurrounded by thousands oflitersofhighlyflammablefuel.
He looked down as thelight meter sitting on theperiscope began to beep. Heactivatedhisheadset.“We’vea
spot of good luck: the rain isreducing the light levelsand itshouldkeepthebuggersinsidefor the night.”He could hearthe men in the vehicle belowhim mutter in approval. Badweatherwastypicallytheirally.Itwouldkeepthelocalsinsideand leave the streets to them.“Drivers,nightvisiononlyandkeep the revs down. Weshouldbeabletosneakinwithnobodyhearingorseeingus.”
He waved down to thesmall guardhouse wheresoldiers controlled gate nine,their chosen point of entryinto the sector. Nothinghappened. He sighed,dropping down the hatch tosee who was closest to thebackhatch.“Kent,goseewhatthosearsehatsaredoingintheguardhouse. We need to getmovingwhileconditionsfavorus.”
Corporal Kent headedfor the small structure whileLiam climbed back into therain to watch. He frowned asthe two guards came bowlingoutofthewindowedhut.Theten-foot-high chain-link gate,topped with razor-sharpconcertinawire,begantoslideoutoftheway.Kentcameoutand leanedover to talk to themen on the rain-slick asphaltbeforetrottingbackovertohis
vehicle. When he shut thedoor and sat back in his seat,hefoundhisofficerlookingathimwitharaisedeyebrow.
“Both of them arebloody bagheads, sir.” Heshook his head in disgust.“Needles and spoons all overthe place. Told ‘em if theyweren’twaitingforustocomeout,they’dhavetoexplainwhytheir pretty little gate was
laying on the ground inpieces.”
The 320-hp enginegrumbled as the driverengaged the clutch. Liampulled himself back upthrough thehatch just in timeto see the twoguards stumbleback into the shelter of theirpost.Withsurprisingagilityforan eighteen-ton machine, theFuchsmaneuveredaround thelow concrete barriers, built to
preventvehiclesfrombuildingenough speed to smashthroughthegates.
Though theneighborhood still had power(therewouldhavebeenregularriots otherwise) thestreetlamps had all beensmashed long ago and thesmall convoy travelled in neardarkness. The occasionalburninghousecausedthemtoslow as the ambient light
reflecting off the rain playedhavoc with the drivers’ nightvisiongoggles.
They reached the old,four-storey estate buildingwhere Liam’s brother-in-lawlived and both vehicles cameto a stop by a huge, stinkinggarbage heap near the backstairs. The men piled out thebackdoorandheadedstraightfor theopendoor,movingupthe stairs in relays, guarding
theentryfromeachflooruntilreaching the third. Liam tookthe lead, passing through therusteddoorframeandheadingdown the broad concretewalkway. On the right was aheavy, crumbling-concretebalustrade, overlooking theirvehicles. On the left, lightseeped out from under closeddoors. There were nowindows.
They reached Leo’sfront door and regrouped.One of the troopers steppedup with a Halligan bar.Combining an adze and pickhead at right angles to eachother, the bar made anexcellent breaching tool forquietoperations.Themanslidthe adze edge between thedoorandjambnexttothelockand gave the longbar a push,popping the latch free and
swinging the door into thesmallapartment.
“Buggeration,” one ofthe men muttered. “Smelledbetter back by the garbageheap.”
Leo sat in a dirty oldlounger in front of histelevision, snoring, a half-emptybottleinhislap.
Hewoke in terror, lyingfacedownwithhishandsandfeet bound and heavy tape
over his mouth. Liam lookeddown at him as hiswide-eyedgazetookinthearmedmeninblackuniformsandgasmasks.He looked back up as Raicame up to him. “He’s nothere,” the sergeant said in aworriedtone.
Liampulledhisbrother-in-lawtoasittingpositionandknelt in front of him, pullingoff his gas mask. Leo’s faceshowed relief when he
recognizedhissister’shusbandbut the expression was short-lived. Guarded alarm stoleacross his features and Liamfelt an icy knot of fear growinsidehisownchest.
He couldn’t afford tosound desperate in front ofLeo. He needed the man tohavenodoubtsastowhowasinchargeofthesituation.“Allright,Leo?”he asked casually.“Thought I’d pop round and
visit with Tommy; see howhe’sgettingon.”
“Ain’t here,” the manblurted. “He scarpered lastmonth and I haven’t thefoggiestwhereheis.”
Liam could spot a lienine times out of ten and hisbrother-in-law was no masterspy. He knew where TommywasandhewasscaredofLiamfinding out. Either he’s worriedaboutwhatI’lldotohimorsomeone
in SectorOne will come after him.Either way, Liam neededanswers. He leaned in closeenough to smell the stink ofcheap vodka on the man’sskin.“Look,Leo,Idon’thaveall night. Are you telling meyou let something happen toTommy?” His anger was justbeneath the surface and itcamethroughinhisvoice.
“He’s fine, I swear it.Only…” he cut himself off
beforehecoulddighimself indeeper, his eyes darting fromLiam to the men standingaroundhim.
Heknowssomething,Liamrealizedwithafeelingofrelief.WhentheyhaddiscoveredthatTommy wasn’t in theapartment, he had feared theworst. Even if he was stillalive, it had been looking likethey would have to go backempty-handed.
But now they mighthave a lead – and Liam knewhowhewoulddigitoutofthisshellofaman.
“Danny,” he saidnoddingtoRai,“youlostyourchange purse last month,yeah?”
“I… did, sir,” Raiansweredwith only the baresthesitation. He wouldn’t becaught dead carrying a changepurse.
“Well,wecan’tfindyoua water buffalo but this oneshould be close enough forsmall change.” He slappedLeo’samplebeergut.
“ ’Ave it, Danny,” oneofthemencalledout.
The prisoner watchednervously as the maskedsoldier pulled a wicked, dog-leg blade and advanced onhim. “Right,” the black-cladman announced with a slight
South-Asian accent, “get hispants down, lads. Be the firsttimethissaladdodger’sseenitin years…”Themaskhid anyhumanexpression,heighteningthesenseofmenace.
It was nothing but amummer’sfarcebutitworked.As the first man reached forLeo’s waist, he re-assessedwho was the greater threat tohis well-being. “He’s in the
tower over by BoleynGround.”
Liamhadbeenthereformatches, in better times, andhe remembered seeing thethree towers that barelyreached above the stands ontheeastside.“Whyishethereif the government checks arecoming here?” he asked, stillnot stopping his men whowerelayingtheirvictimouton
the floor and slicing throughhisbelt.
“BecausetheWestHamSyndicate pays better than thegovernment, that’s why,”MacKinnon growled fromwherehesatontheprisoner’sfeet. “They ‘rent’ kids fromlocals and put ‘em to workcooking up Tina. They keep‘emtheretwenty-four-sevensotheydon’tlifttheproduct.”
“You sold my boy towork in a meth’ lab?” Liamwas incredulous;hehadneverthought highly of Kate’sbrother but this was beyondthe pale. He waved his menaway and leaned over to lookhim in the eyes. “Whichtower?”
“Middleone.”Hisvoicehad lost the edge of terror,now that Rai and his knifewere on the other side of the
room. “South got gutted by afire last year and the north isalmost ready to collapse.” Heraised his bound hands tograspatLiam’ssleeve.“IsweartoGod,theytakegoodcareofthe boys that work there –wouldn’tbeabletogetanyoneiftheydidn’t.”
Liamshookhimoffandstood up, activating hisheadset.“Right,we’retakingalittle spin over to Boleyn
Ground; everybody mountup.” He waved the men outthedoorandsteppedoverLeotofollowthem.
“Youcan’tleavemelikethis,” the man pleaded. “Theneighborswillcleanmeout.”
Liam stopped for amoment, then nodded.“You’reright,Leo,”hesaidashe leanedover,hisbrother-in-law extendinghishands tobefreed. Liam delivered a solid
blowtotheman’sjaw,drivinghis head back to strike thefloor.
“Couldn’t leave youconscious like that,” hemutteredasheshookhisrighthandwithawince. “Wedon’twant you getting loose andnarking on us.” He turnedfrom the unconscious, semi-nakedmanandjoggedoutthedoortocatchupwithhismen.
~*~
The entry team waslinedupjustaroundthecornerfromthemainentranceofthemiddle tower. Simpson hadvolunteered to do the recceand he had found clearprogress right up to the frontdoor.The syndicate that ruledthis region obviously felt thatnobodywouldeverdareattackthem. Liam’s sniper teamswereinpositioninbothoftheflanking towers and had
identified a concentration ofwarm signatures on thesouthwest corner of thesecondfloor.
The big Scot reachedoutforthewinebottlethathehad given to MacKinnon tocarryforhim.Hehadfounditlayingonthegroundneartheirvehicles and filled it beforemoving off to clear theapproach to the towers. Hechuckled at the soldier’s
confused expression. “Dinnayour maw teach you not toshow up empty-handed?” Heshifted the bottle to his lefthand sohe couldholdhisC8carbine inhisright.“Manners,laddie,manners.”Withthat,hesimply strolled around thecorner and headed for thedoorasifheownedtheplace.
He reached out hiscarbineandtappedthesilenceron the glass windows of the
red door. One of the twoguardsinthevestibuleopenedthe door and frowned out athim. Simpson produced anheroic belch and sauntered in,handing the bottle to thesecond guard, who, seeing nohostility from the suddenvisitor, lowered his handgunandreachedout for thebottlewithagrinonhisface.
“I’m new,” Simpsonexplained in a perfect local
accent, to the surprise of hismates, crouching out in therain. “Thought I’d get here abit early for my watch andlearnthewayofthings.”
“I bloody knew it,”whispered a voice on the net.“That manky Scots git hasbeen putting us on with thatdodgeybrogueallthistime!”
“Quiet,” Liam cutthrough the chuckles just asthe guard with the bottle
sneezed diesel fuel out hisnose in shock. Simpson, whohadbeenexplaininghimselftotheguardbythedoorbroughthis carbine butt up to strikethe man in the mouth,knocking him cold. “Shift yerarses,” he growled into hisheadset, hanging inside hiscollar.
The entry team pouredinto the small vestibulewhereboth guards were now
unconscious. “He said therewere four guards on thesecond floor.” The big manshrugged. “Could be pureblatherskite.”
“You know your job,”Liam told the group. “Thisbuildingishostile; ifyouseeaweapon, you pull the trigger.Thisisamethlabsodon’tloseany sleep over the buggers.”He smiled at the men whogrinned back at him. They
were along to bring Tommyout but there wasn’t a soldieralive, with the possibleexceptionofthetwoguardsatthebarricade,whodidn’trelishthethoughtofgoingafterdrugdealers.
“Masks on. Securitydetail to hold the lobby. Therest of you follow me.” Heturned to the stairwell doorand headed for the secondlevel.Heledhisforceontothe
second floor hallway andturned for the southwestcorner. Two guards sat at asmalltable,playingcards.Liamfiredtworoundsintothemanwho sat facing him while thetrooper behind him shot thesecond guard before he couldreact. Though silenced, thebreech mechanism of the C8still made a loud noise in theconcretehallwayasitslammedback and forth, cycling
ammunition through thechamber, spitting brasscartridges onto the concretefloor.
It was one of thereasons he had ordered histeamtoleavetheirweaponsonsingle shot rather than fullautomatic.Theoccasionalshotwould sound like a guardcocking his weapon while aburst would be unmistakable.Hismainreason,however,was
that there were children onthisfloor.
And one of them washisson.
They formed up at thedoorway to the southeastapartmentandoneofthemenstepped up with anotherHalligan bar. Liam counteddown on his fingers. As thelast finger curled down into afist, the trooper forced thedooropenandjumpedbackto
allow the entry team space topourin.Liamwasfirstthroughthe door and it took him amomenttoassesswhathewaslookingat.
There were eight boys,some perhaps as old asthirteen or fourteen, in theparlor. Six were standingagainst the wall watching aseventh who was tied to achair, his face a mass ofbruises. One man, breathing
heavily from the beating hehad been administering, wasthrown down and secured byLiam’s men, none too gently.The secondman in the roomhad been holding the eighthboy by the scruff of his neckandhe let go in alarm, raisinghishandsashebackedagainstthe wall. He was also securedefficientlyandwithagreatdealofinjury.
The eighth boy wasThomas.
Liam pulled his maskoff. “Tommy,” he said softly,knowing his voice wasunreliable at the moment. Somuchneededtobesaidbutnowordscame.
“Dad?”Hisfaceshowedhis confusion. The last hewouldhaveheardwasthathisfather had disappeared afterhis helicopter went down.
After more than a year, hewouldn’thaveexpected to seehim again and, yet, here hewas. A hint of his old smilecameback.“Dad!”Hejumpedacross his former captor andthrew his arms around hisfather.
Liam finally felt amomentofpeace.Allthefearsthat he had been holding atbay since his release fromcaptivity began to melt away.
Thomas was alive. He closedhis eyes and held his son, thechill of the rainy nightforgotten.
“Something in your eye,Simpson?”avoiceinquired.
“Shut it,” the big mangrowled.
Liam opened his eyesand looked around the room.Histrooperswerecheckingonthe boys, looking for injuriesand assessing their mobility.
He looked down to the boywho had been taking thebeating. His men had movedhim to the couch and wereassessinghisinjuries.“Tommy,whatwas going on here?”Henoddedtowardthecouch.
His son stepped backand lookedover to theprone,bruised figure on the couch.“They caught him trying toleave,” he said, woodenly.“They make examples of the
ones they catch. The last onedied.Iyelledatthemtostop–theysaidIwasnext.”
Liam didn’t know whatmadehimangrier,thefactthatthesemenwere about to beathis defenseless son or thatTommywas able to discuss itin such emotionless terms. Itwas a survivalmechanism; killyour emotionsbefore theykillyou. How many murders hadhissonwatched in this room?
How many times had hespokenup?
Liam pushed his angerasideforamomentandsmiledathis son.“Youspokeup forhim,”hesaidashereachedoutto grasp his shoulder. “Thatwas a brave thing to do,considering what you canexpectfromtheminreturn.”
Tommy shrugged.“Didn’tdomuch forhim,did
it?” He angled his headtowardsthecouch.
Liam shook his head.“Theytookabreaktoputyouinthelineup,yeah?”Hegaveashrugofhisown.“Otherwise,theymighthavebeatenhimtodeath by now.” He looked attherestof theboys,activatinghis headset. “All units to rallypoint Delta. We are bringingouteightchildren;oneofthemis seriously wounded. Second
unit to have their stretcherslungforpatienttransport.”
Liam pulled his maskfrom its precarious perch ontop of his head and shoved itbackintothestoragebagathiship.Theymovedtheevacueesquicklytothestairwell,passingthe two men who guardedagainst incursion from higherfloors.They filed out into thelobbywherethesoftrumbleofdiesels could be heard. The
drivers were already backinginto the small courtyard,coming toastopwith the lastthree feet of their vehiclesunderthebuildingcanopy.
Six men went outside,opening the back hatches ofthe armored vehicles beforemoving to take up defensivepositionsinthedyingrain.
Theexodusbegan.Two boys were sent to
thefrontofthesecondvehicle
while their injured friend waslaid on a stretcher. He wascarried inside and suspendedbetweentherowsofseatsthatbacked against the outerwallsof the vehicle.Theother five,includingTommy,wereguidedintotheleadvehicle.
The snipers hadrappelled down the faces ofthetwoflankingbuildingsandnow ran to climb into thefront passenger seats of their
vehicles as Liam followed thelastofhismen,climbinginthebackhatchanddoggingitshut.“Uptothefrontend,”hetoldTommy with a nod towardsthe engine compartment thatseparatedthecabfromtherearcompartment.
“Two loaded.”Simpson’s accent was re-surfacing,evenovertheradio.
“One loaded,” Liamanswered. “Let’s get to the
posthospital.”Theypulledawaywitha
roar; stealth was no longernecessarybutspeedwas.Afterafewblocks,Liamopenedtheroof hatch and stood withTommy,watchingtheblightedcityscapeflypast.Theboyhadobviouslybeenimpressedwiththe armored vehicle and hisgrinwasmoreliketheonethatLiam remembered. Theybraved the last of the drizzle,
comforted by the flow ofwarmthfromtheheaterbelow.
“Is the whole worldgone to the dogs?” the boyasked loudly,when the enginewas at a lower rpm. Theyswayedas thevehicle swervedaroundaburninglorry.
“No, just parts of it.”Liam hunched over to makehimself easier to hear. “Erintellsmethingsaremuchmore
stable on Guernsey. Not likehere where everybody is astranger. There, most peoplehave family, roots.” Theyswerved again as they enteredthe zigzag concrete barriers atthe sector gate, which slidopen at their approach.MacKinnon hadmade a goodimpressionontheguards.
“Are you thinking ofsendingmetolivewithAuntieErin?” They accelerated away
from the gates, headingtowardstheriver.Theskywasfinallyclearing.
“Would you like to liveon Guernsey?” he halfshouted.
Tommycranedhisheadback to look up at his father.“Well, I’ll miss staying withUncle Leo, but I suppose Icould do with a change.” Hisgrin took any sting from hiswords. It wasn’t a reproach,
justhissenseofhumorhelpinghimtodealwiththeturmoilofthe last fewmonths. His grinfadedashiseyesdriftedtotheright,growingwideinwonder.Inthelastfewblocks,workingstreetlights had begun toappear,andnowtheyrolledtoa stop as they approached atrafficjam.
Two vehicles had beenin a minor collision and thecrowdsonthesidewalkslowed
astheypassed.Carshonkedasa uniformed police constableauthoritatively directed theremoval of the damagedvehicles. “It’s just like it usedto be!” The boy said inwonder. “I had no idea theworld was still normal, andcertainlynotsoclose.”
I don’t think I would go sofar as to say the world is normalanymore. Liam smiled andactivated his headset. “Two,
back up and take an alternateroute.Thiswon’tclearupanytime soon. We’ll wait it outsince we don’t have anymedicalcasesonboard.”Eightvehiclesback,thesecondFuchsdisgorged three men whobegan directing the vehiclesbehind them. The spacebehind them cleared quickly,civilian drivers encouraged tocomplyby the sightof assaultweapons.
Tommy’s browfurrowed as he watched theaccident scene. “Will you becomingtoGuernsey?”
“For a month,” Liamsaid, looking up and strainingto see the stars beyond theglareofthestreetlights.“ThenI have to report for training.We have a job waiting for usout there and I have to see itthrough.” Now that the rainhad stopped, they climbed up
to sit on the roof of thevehicle,feetdanglingdownthehatch. He looked over at hisson. “Tommy, Iwould like tojust stay with you but I owethesemen,”hebegan.
The boy nodded,lookingdownattheairintakeson the roof. “So do I, aftertonight,” he said thoughtfully.“Isupposeyou’reallIhavetopay them with.” He lookedover at Liam. “D’ you really
think we can beat whoevertookMarsfromus,Dad?”
Liam watched a largeflatbed back up to one of thedamagedcarswhilehethoughtabouthisanswer.“Happenwemight,” he said. “Theyobviously know more aboutengines than us, but weaponsand tactics?” He shrugged,lookingoverat theboy.“OnethingIcantellyou:Ifwedon’t
give it a shot, we’ll end up inthekermitforsure.”
Tommy turned to theloadingoperationwithasmile.The small Peugeot waswinchedup the flatbedwith awail ofmetal-on-metal. “Well,if we don’t know what thefutureholds,”hesaidbrightly,nodding at theordered chaos,“we should enjoy civilizationwhileitlasts.”
The Kennedy boyswatched in happy silence asthescenewascleared.Asmallscab that would be gone in amatterofhours.Fivemiles tothe east, the same woundwould have festered andspread, the cars torched, theflames jumping to the nearbybuildings.Sooneror later,oneof the two halves of afractured society wouldestablish dominance. Liam
feared that the virulenteconomics ofSectorOnemightprovetobethestronger.
He looked at his son,watchingascenesomundane,so common-place that itinfused thembothwithanewsense of hope.You will have alife, he vowed.Win or lose, youwillhaveaplaceinthisworld.Theconstablestartedwavingtrafficthrough.Thebigdieselrevved
andtheyclimbedbackintothehatch.
Timetogetonwithit.
FromtheAuthorI decided to write this
short story as I was working
with my editor on the main
story. I felt Liam had a great
dealofpotentialasacharacter,
and it had remained largely
untapped in the first Black
Ships episode. In the eleven
thousand words above, I’ve
come to realize that my plan
for the second book in this
series left too much on the
table.Ihadoriginallyintended
to jump forward a century or
so and explore amore distant
future, but I’ve decided that
there’s a great deal of
storytelling tobe found in the
decade following the end of
BlackShips.
Liam and Tommy will
play a major role in the mad
scramble to establish the new
way of things. Though life
may, at times, be difficult,
young Tommy will doubtless
consider it an improvement
over his time with Uncle
Leo…
Ifyouenjoyedthisstory,
a short review is always
appreciated. Nobodies (like
myself) tend togetdiscovered
bywordofmouthandhonest
reviews are one of the best
ways to make an opinion
available.Ifyou’dliketoreach
me with comments, questions
oryou just feel likediscussing
the weather, I’m at
AGClaymore@gmail.com .
Thanksforreadingandhavea
greatday!
.
FollowmeonTwitter:
@AGClaymore
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