UKD2: UK Dark Series Book 2, Page 2

  We then went outside to inform the crowd, and to put them out of their misery. Everybody was over the moon and the clapping and cheering went on for a long time. Pete, once he had calmed everyone down, passed the meeting over to Jerry, Russ and me so that we could answer any questions. After the third question about food and supplies, I had to interrupt Jerry and say,

  “Friends. This is not it. We have not been saved. Yes, we have made contact and are shortly expecting a visit from Jerry’s brother, Colonel Moore. But we still have to work hard to survive. We can’t expect these people to feed us or do our heavy work for us. They’re in the same position as us. Yes, they may be able to help us, but I’d also like to think that we can help them. We’ve all survived and we can pass on what we’ve learned. The future is looking brighter. I believe we are emerging from the dark and a new dawn is coming.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Over the next couple of days, Jerry and his brother were in regular contact. Jon admitted that the “little trip” he had envisioned was rapidly turning into a major expedition, as more and more personnel and government figures were finding compelling and well-argued reasons as to why they should be included.

  An unmanned aerial vehicle (UAV) had been launched, and the route mapped and planned to avoid any major obstructions. Jon admitted that he had so many “gadgets and gizmos” at his disposal, and people with plenty of time on their hands, that even though it seemed excessive, planning this mission had galvanised a lot of his people back into action, and made them aware that they still had a job to do: rebuild the country.

  The wish list we’d put together comprised mainly spares and parts that Russ wanted for his various projects.

  Allan had requested weapons, to help improve our already quite impressive security arrangements, and more razor wire, as he wanted to extend the security perimeter. We hadn’t had a positive response about the request for weapons, but it hadn’t been ruled out either.

  All I’d requested was a cockerel.

  We couldn’t get a definite answer on how many people to expect. It appeared that Jon didn’t know himself, and was desperately trying to keep the numbers low, and therefore manageable. (We got the impression that he was failing).

  Although Jon assured us that they wouldn’t be encroaching upon our hospitality and would manage their own accommodation and supplies, we decided it wouldn’t be pleasant to sleep under canvas in December, so Pete set about preparing more houses in the road to accept guests. Not knowing how many to expect, we “aired and prepared” the ten houses that were directly next to the block of ten we all lived in.

  Allan erected a basic security fence around the properties, removed the fences separating the rear gardens, and cut down trees and shrubs to improve visibility.

  We fully expected Jon to arrive with a strong military force, so we were not too worried about security, as we figured they would be able to manage that themselves. But what Allan had accomplished would give them a start.

  Rumours were flying around about who was expected to visit. Jon refused to be drawn into any conversations about it, and changed the subject every time the question arose. This did nothing to stop the rumour mill; it only made it worse.

  Pete had to resort to losing his temper to get most people back on track. A holiday mood had settled over all of us, and he was finding it difficult to get everyone motivated to do the daily tasks he set for them. One good rant from Pete, using some well chosen and considered words, embarrassed us all back into compliance.

  The one allowance he did make was a request for more baking supplies from the kitchen crew. They were determined to go on a “bakeathon” and show off their cooking skills on the new and improved “Beast”. Russ had continued to tinker with it and nowadays it barely leaked any smoke. He’d also added controls to regulate the air flow, which helped to control the temperature.

  Over the weeks the volunteer cooks had learned to tame The Beast. The quality of the food was improving, and recipes were being adapted or invented to suit the supplies that were available and the sheer number of people there was to feed.

  We were all losing weight. With all the extra physical work we were undertaking, and the more controlled portions we were receiving, (and the lack of snacking opportunities), all of the adults were getting into shape. The women were calling it the “Disaster Diet” and the standing joke was that it should have been invented years ago.

  It would have saved them all a lot of money and time wasted on following the latest exercise or diet crazes.

  Jerry was monitoring us all closely to ensure that we were staying healthy. He was actually carefully documenting his results, and treating it as a research project to show how regular exercise and a controlled diet improved general health over an extended period.

  Common sense really, but as he explained, it wasn’t often you had the opportunity to conduct a study like this over such a long period of time on such a number of people. He was hoping to prove that common ailments such as asthma could be helped, or even eradicated, by following our enforced healthier lifestyle. His initial results were looking promising. We were all feeling fitter and healthier, so we were not surprised.

  Jon had expressed amazement when we told him what Jerry was doing.

  All he would say was that a few of the people who might be accompanying him on his expedition would want to sit down and discuss various matters with us.

  When we next spoke to Jon later that evening, he announced that all the plans had been finalised, and they would be leaving the base at midnight, and aiming to arrive at our location by mid-morning tomorrow. Christmas Day.

  Although I wasn’t on guard duty, I found it impossible to sleep that night, so I crept quietly out of bed so as not to disturb Becky, and grabbed my MP5. I walked over to the barricade, where I knew Allan was on guard duty.

  He quite often volunteered for the worst night shifts. His argument was that most of the others had family here. He also insisted that he didn’t mind pulling “the graveyard shift” as it gave him some peace and quiet to plan his next security project. In reality, I knew it was because he was just being thoughtful and felt guilty when others were doing the unenjoyable cold and dark shifts.

  I found him sheltering in one of the lookout posts he had constructed along the barricades, to protect the sentries from the worst of the weather. I handed him one of the insulated mugs of coffee I had brought with me and he moved over to make room for me to sit down. I told Jim, the other man on duty, that I’d take over his watch for him. He didn’t take much persuading, because the night was cold, with a biting wind. He shouted his thanks over his shoulder as he rushed home to his wife and his warm bed.

  We passed the time chatting about various subjects. Russ was working on some sort of lighting to improve night time security, and we chuckled as we pictured him apologising for the crudity of his design, and unveiling something that would far exceed anything we could possibly hope to invent.

  We had started calling him Scotty (the engineer from the original Star Trek Series) and our dreadful attempts at a Scottish accent saying, “Och the energisers are crossed like a Christmas tree cap’n it canna take nee moore!” amused us far more than it did him.

  Allan described various changes he wanted to make to our defences and we talked them through. Usually when we discussed something, we ended up with an improved idea.

  I could tell Allan wanted to discuss something else and was feeling awkward about it, so I took a wild guess and steered the conversation towards Michelle. He immediately opened up. We had become close friends over the weeks and I was pleased that he trusted me enough to talk about it, and in the dead of night there was also no risk of anyone overhearing. He clearly needed to get it off his chest.

  He had fallen madly in love with Michelle, but didn’t know what to do about it. I was touched by the emotion in his voice when he talked about his feelings for her. Even I had enough emotional intelligence to realise that now was not the time for sil
ly comments; this was a serious “man to man” conversation.

  His anguish stemmed from the fact that he didn’t know how Michelle felt about him. He’d tried being a friend to her, to help her through the trauma she’d suffered, and now he was afraid that she thought of him only as a friend, a big brother figure, and that he’d ruined any chance of love.

  I put my hand on his shoulder and said, “Mate, look, I may not be the most sensitive person when it comes to understanding women’s emotions, but every time you walk into my house, Michelle’s eyes light up. You’re included in most of the conversations she joins in with. She’s always asking one of us if you’re OK, and she paces up and down looking worried when she knows you’re out on patrol. Now if that’s not love, then I don’t know what is! Look,” I added, “if you want me to have a quiet word with Becky, who by the way loves nothing more than a bit of matchmaking, I’ll be more than happy to do it.”

  “Cheers, mate,” he said, looking relieved.“Appreciate it.” At this point I couldn’t resist winding him up a bit by adding,

  “Of course! I’ve worked it out. Jerry’s hunky ‘James Bond’ brother’s arriving in a few hours isn’t he? He’ll be wearing a better uniform than you. No wonder you’re worried!”

  His response made us both laugh, and with that, our conversation went back to normal topics.

  The rest of the night passed in pleasant conversation between two good friends. When the next shift arrived, we all shook hands and wished each other a Merry Christmas. Allan and I walked to our respective homes. I invited him back to my house to share Christmas morning with everyone in the house. He thanked me and said he’d be over in a while, once he’d spent some time with the people in Pete’s house. He told me he had some Christmas presents he wanted to give to Michelle.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Despite the children knowing that Christmas was going to be radically different this year, the magic and excitement was still enough for them to wake up early. We’d warned them that Santa wasn’t going to be able to deliver as many presents this year, but they were still as excited as only children can be on Christmas morning.

  In the last few weeks the scavenging parties had been carrying a wish list of items that parents thought their children would like (and a more secretive list for wives, husbands and partners).

  Most requests had been ticked off the list. By universal agreement, no gifts had been scavenged from houses that contained dead people. It seemed acceptable to take things from houses that people had abandoned, but to make a gift of something that had belonged to someone who had died, just seemed wrong.

  As a community, we had all agreed on the format for the day. Each household would exchange gifts and spend a little family time together before congregating in the communal cooking area. A day’s holiday had been declared and only the barricades would be manned. The shifts would be rotated every hour to give everyone a chance to join in the planned festivities.

  It was all the more exciting because of the impending arrival of Jerry’s brother and an unknown number of extras.

  We had thought about inviting some of the more friendly groups of survivors we had come across to join us for Christmas. We’d even discussed it with some of them on joint scavenging trips. We had all agreed that it would be a good idea to arrange a get together at some point in the future, perhaps more of a conference than a celebration. But as we were by far the largest, best organised and best armed group in the local area, there was a risk that we might look as if we were showing off about how much better off we were.

  Most of the groups were barely surviving, and living in squalid conditions. In the end we decided against it.

  We had always tried to offer help and advice to these people, but we couldn’t afford to offer them anything more than that. More often than not, we had given them more than their fair share of the scavenged food. Despite this, some groups were looking in worse condition every time we met.

  Perhaps selfishly, we also didn’t want anything to ruin the day for our children.

  The kitchen in our house was packed, as every resident of the house gathered together. All sixteen of us!

  The children received their presents first. After some hasty organising the day before, Jane and Michael now had presents to give to their children.

  I gave Stanley his first knife; it had a fixed blade and a leather sheath. I gave him the usual lecture about what would happen if I thought he couldn’t be trusted with it.

  Daisy got a nice painting set. Bless them! They were both over the moon with their gifts and never once looked disappointed about only receiving one thing.

  Most of the presents the adults exchanged related to keeping warm. I gave Becky a nice fur hat I had found and she gave me some good quality leather gloves. Everybody else exchanged hats, scarves, socks or gloves.

  As we all stood or sat around in the kitchen, it struck me that it could have been a normal scene from any family Christmas. Even the log burner I had installed in the old fireplace didn’t seem out of place. The only thing that struck a jarring note was the gun rack I had built for the shotguns and my MP5, to keep them safely out of the way and to stop people tripping over them.

  If an outsider had looked at the people in the room, they would have noted that our clothes weren’t as clean as they had been, or as well pressed.

  We probably looked dishevelled and a little grubbier than before, as washing was now regarded as a luxury that used precious hot water.

  But the things that the outsider would have thought normal were the genuine smiles and laughter that filled the room. Kids were running around excitedly and parents were having to raise their voices to make themselves heard over the increasing noise level.

  Allan arrived with the presents for Michelle. She’d talked to him a lot about the things she had been most upset about losing and subsequently, he’d been to her house to look for them. The house had been ransacked and a lot of the items of sentimental value had been smashed, damaged or stolen, but he’d managed to recover some treasured photographs and some of her favourite pieces of pottery, which he’d painstakingly glued back together.

  She looked at him in shock when she realised what he was giving her.

  This quickly turned to a look of panic, and she burst out crying and ran upstairs.

  Allan looked crestfallen. As he turned to leave Becky said, “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’ve upset her and I didn’t mean to. I’ll just leave and let her be alone, I don’t want to make it any worse,” he replied with the best “lost puppy” face I’d ever seen on anyone.

  To his astonishment Becky just laughed, “When are you two ever going to realise that you love each other? It’s so obvious to the rest of us. She’s just realised that you may love her, but is afraid to find out that you don’t, so she’s run away. You think you’ve upset her and she doesn’t love you, so you’re about to run away as well! If you don’t get up those stairs RIGHT NOW and tell her how you feel, I’ll ban you from ever stepping foot in this house again!”

  The poor man absorbed what Becky was telling him and transformed from a lost puppy into the happiest man in the world. He took one look at me, smiled and ran up the stairs, calling her name.

  I interrupted the cheers and whistles from the happy crowd of onlookers and said with a big smile, “Shall we go outside and meet up with everyone else? I’m not sure I want to explain to the children the noises we might be hearing from upstairs soon.” We all agreed, laughing, gathered up the children and pointed them in the direction of the door. The women seemed to be in some sort of race to be first out, presumably so that they could be first to reveal the latest gossip to the other occupants of the road. The happy news about Michelle and Allan was received with universal pleasure and raised everyone’s spirits all the more.

  The planning that had gone into the Christmas meal was impressive, and after a breakfast of porridge and cereals, various people were tasked with childcare and supervision d
uties, while others were allocated food preparation duties.

  Precious fresh vegetables had been scavenged and hoarded, and geese, ducks and even swans had been shot and prepared for cooking.

  The quantity prepared had been increased over the last day or so, in spite of Jon’s insistence that we were not to use any of our supplies to feed our visitors. We had decided that it would be rude not to offer them some hospitality, especially when they were arriving on Christmas Day.

  Extra camping ovens and barbecues were brought in to prepare the feast and soon the delicious smells drifting over from the kitchen had us all drooling at the thought of what was to come.

  The next hour or so flew by with everyone in a good mood. Yes, tears were shed when missing loved ones were thought of and talked about, but we all knew we were lucky to be alive and were thankful that the community we had formed was surviving against all the odds.

  We couldn’t dwell upon the ones we didn’t know about. The joy of reaching a landmark date like Christmas Day alive, was an achievement that we all wanted to celebrate. And the impending arrival added to the excitement of the proceedings.

  The people who still wore watches glanced at them frequently, wondering when our visitors would arrive.

  At about eleven o’clock, the distant noise of diesel engines silenced us all, and as a group, we all started to move past the barricade and walk up to the line of cars blocking the top of the road.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  We all stood and waited.

  Two armoured vehicles appeared suddenly, coming up the main road from the direction of Kings Heath (the next “village” along, about a mile further out from the city centre). I didn’t know what the vehicles were called but I had seen them on television. They’d been used for transporting troops around Afghanistan. They had huge machine guns on top, manned by soldiers.