Resurgence, p.7
Resurgence, page 7
part #5 of Hell on Earth Series
I can’t move. I can’t move.
He lay there, terrified, sure that this was the end. His broken body would remain there on this road, rotting in the sun and pecked apart by birds.
Seconds passed by like hours.
Addy appeared in the narrow portal of his blurred vision. Blood coated her face, and what looked like a nail jutted out of her cheek. She grabbed Mass by the shoulders and shook him. Her mouth moved, but he heard nothing besides that endless high-pitched whining. He turned his head and saw Honeywell. The police sergeant lay on his side, half of his face shorn away by the blast, his eyes bloodshot and still. Dead eyes.
No.
Rich… No…
Addy shook him again and his ears popped. Sound came rushing back, but too much of it. Addy yelling. Someone screaming. Birds squawking. Beneath it all was the gentle hiss of the wind. It overwhelmed him and made him want to vomit. He felt his foot move and almost cried with relief. Slowly, more of him came back to life.
“Mass, get the hell up.” Addy continued pulling at his shoulders. “Get up!”
He got to his feet but stumbled drunkenly. Everywhere he turned, he found death. Honeywell had caught the worst of it as he’d been leaning over Bobby. Both of their bodies were now in pieces, blood gushing from dozens of different wounds. From the state of Honeywell’s face, he must have died in an instant.
No last words, not even any last thoughts. Just gone. Fucking gone.
The men nearest had caught the blast too, and crude nails and bits of steel riddled their bodies. Jugulars spurted and legs kicked, but they were beyond helping. Only those furthest away were still conscious. Bride and London were alive but injured. Bride, in particular, had a long nail buried deep in his left biceps and another one right in the side of his skull. He moaned quietly, like he was singing a lullaby only to himself. London moaned louder, torn up in a handful of places and in obvious pain. His worst injury was to his left hand, which dripped blood into his lap like an open tap. Then there was Mass and Addy. If he hadn’t gone to check on her… If he hadn’t asked Honeywell to take over…
I killed him.
No. That bitch did.
“This was all a set-up,” said Mass. “Gemma set us up.”
Addy grabbed him and yelled into his face. “Tox and the others went with her to that farm.”
Mass searched for his Uzi but couldn’t find it, no matter how hard he tried. Had he dropped it into the thick hedges when he’d been lifted from the ground? Honeywell’s shotgun lay next to his body, so he picked it up and checked it was loaded. It was. Now it was his shotgun and he intended to use it. “The plan was for us all to die, and if Honeywell hadn’t been shielding Bobby, we would have. That means they won’t be expecting it when we arrive at that farm and start cutting them down at the knees.”
Addy grinned maliciously. She had somehow kept hold of her shotgun, and she looked eager to unload on something. The nail still poked out of her cheek and made her look demonic. He wondered if she even knew it was there.
London dragged himself up and wobbled on his feet. “I-I don’t understand what happened.”
“We got fucked,” said Mass, “but not hard enough to keep us down. We need to move. Help Bride get to his feet.”
Mass stared down the road, wondering how far this farm was – or if it even if existed. Were Tox and the others still alive, or had Gemma detonated another bomb strapped to her torso? Were these people all suicide bombers?
No, Bobby tried to warn us. He was a victim.
But a victim of who?
London cleared his throat. “Boss, Bride can’t get to his feet.”
“Why not?”
There were tears in London’s eyes as he spoke. “Because Bride is dead.”
Bride had slumped forward like a sleeping Buddha. The nail in his skull had finally done its job. Another man dead. Killed by a stranger for no reason. A human being, not a demon.
Mankind hadn’t lost its talent for murder.
Maddy helped Wickstaff move into an office beside the Mary Rose Ship Hall. The touristy area of the docks around the half-ruined HMS Victory, battered during the battle with Lord Amon and his forces, was quieter than the warehouse section, where people lived, worked, and trained. Maddy wondered if Wickstaff was glad to move away from the hustle and bustle. Since stepping down as general that very afternoon, the woman had gained a spring in her step. She seemed lighter.
It’s fair enough if she wants to take a step back. She’s done enough. More than anyone. I just thought she would have put up more of a fight.
Maddy shouldered the door to the office and struggled inside with a cardboard box full of papers. “This is the last of it, ma’am.”
Wickstaff waved a hand to the chair next to her desk. “Sit down, woman. Take a load off.”
Maddy dumped the box on the desk and tittered. “Oh, erm, thank you.”
“Coffee?”
“I’d love one.”
“You know, eventually, we’ll run out of the stuff. Where are the beans grown? South America? Tea from India and China? I’m no horticulturist, but I don’t think any of it’s local.”
“I suppose we’ll run out of a lot of things soon.”
Wickstaff turned with a steaming mug of coffee and handed it to Maddy. “As long as we don’t run out of people we’ll consider it a victory.”
Maddy sipped the coffee and enjoyed it immensely. There were so few luxuries in the world nowadays that each one was exquisite. Last week, one of the scavenger teams had brought back a haul including several hundred tiny boxes of raisins. She’d never tasted anything so good.
Wickstaff sat in the chair behind her new – much smaller – desk and took a sip from her own mug. She smacked her lips. “Ah, that’s the stuff. When was the last time I got to put my feet up?”
“About nine months ago, ma’am, I would imagine.”
“Long enough to create a baby.”
Maddy studied the woman, trying to see the cracks, but there seemed to be none. “General, are you—”
“Brigadier.”
“Yes, erm, are you happy, Brigadier Wickstaff? Are you happy that General Thomas relieved you of your command within an hour of arriving?”
Wickstaff sighed, a sliver of irritation in her dark-brown eyes. “I seem to recall demoting myself voluntarily. If I had wished to fight the situation, I would have.”
“Why didn’t you? This place is all down to you.”
“Portsmouth is down to me, is it? The place has been around far longer than you and me. We all have a stake in this place.”
Maddy nodded. “And you gave yours up.”
“Maddy!” Wickstaff put down her coffee and leant forward over her desk. “I gave up nothing! If I’d resisted General Thomas, what would have happened? Bloodshed, that we would have been on the worst end of.”
“How can you say that? We fought the demons – an entire army of them. We took down a fallen angel.”
“Yes, and it left us battered and broken. If General Thomas ordered his people to fire on us, it would cost lives – the lives of people who have fought and earned the right to live. There was no option for me but to step down.”
“It doesn’t seem right.”
“It’s not, but let me tell you something, Maddy. A sound leader does not react, she plans. She waits. General Thomas is an old man. There are no other generals here – Brigadiers either. In fact, it seems a little silly having such lofty ranks when there’re only a handful of officers to manage. I imagine General Thomas picked my new role for its connotations as much as its prestige. Brigadier is the final rank one can attain without interfering with the big boys and their power games.”
“You took it so easily,” said Maddy. “That old fart came in to humiliate you, yet somehow you made it seem like you were happy to step aside.”
Wickstaff huffed. “I won’t give a man like that the satisfaction of seeing a woman beg. You’re getting het up for no reason, Maddy. General Thomas will fulfil what he feels is his rightful duty and then I shall step up to lead once more. In the meantime, we have fifteen thousand fresh troops and a great deal more supplies. The safety of the people of Portsmouth is my paramount concern, and if I had resisted General Thomas, it would have been in jeopardy. His people will never agree to take my command, but two years down the line, I shall take the mantle of general legitimately and move forward with a unified force. I have no problem playing the long game if it means more people live.”
“So what are you going to do in the meantime?”
“My job. The life of a brigadier isn’t all sunshine and crumpets, you know? I shall be busy enough, don’t you worry – and yet not quite so busy. It will be nice to share the worry for a change. Let General Thomas and Colonel Cross make the life and death decisions around here for a while. To tell you the truth, I’m not sure how much longer I could have held things together. I’m not made of iron.”
“What do you think about Colonel Cross?” Maddy realised she had asked the question somewhat randomly.
Wickstaff went to answer, but then her words stopped and a smirk settled on her lips.
Maddy felt herself blush. “What?”
“I might ask what you think about Colonel Cross.”
“I asked you first.”
“Hmm, well, he’s a little too weather-beaten for me. I like a clean-cut, soft-skinned man. I’m surrounded by tough men all day, so give me a gentleman to warm my bed. I will say, though, that Colonel Cross seems a competent and temperate man. With any luck, his influence on his superior will be great.”
Maddy nodded. She wholeheartedly agreed. “He managed to convince Thomas to step down his aggression towards you. He sought compromise.”
“I think Colonel Cross saw conflict and sought to quell it. He knew I would step down one way or another, but he made sure I could do it with my dignity intact. A clever man. Cleverer than you would think by the looks of him. I doubt he was always an officer.”
That was exactly what Maddy assumed. Cross was a good man with good instincts. Perhaps things wouldn’t be so bad with him around. “I would still like to remain your aide, ma’am, if that’s okay?”
“I wouldn’t hear of anything else. Stick with me, Maddy, and we girls shall prosper. Especially now the assassins will be targeting General Thomas instead of me. Things will work out just fine.”
A knock at the door, and Diane entered in a flap. “General Wickstaff, you need to come right away.”
Wickstaff groaned. “What is it?”
“The men are fighting.”
Wickstaff looked at Maddy and blew air out of her cheeks. “I just wanted one evening. Is that too much to ask?”
Maddy got up and waited for the general – for the brigadier – to join her.
Gonna take a while to get the hang of that.
Wickstaff sipped half her coffee, and then the three women hurried to the docks, heading for the shipping containers where Diane said the hostilities were occurring. It didn’t take long for them to hear the cavemen yells of fighting men.
General Thomas arrived at the same time they did. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the scene. Several men were involved in a punch-up, and it was clear to see the make-up of the two sides. General Thomas’s uniformed soldiers were throwing punches at Portsmouth’s scruffy militia. The uniformed soldiers were coming off worse. A young guardsman Maddy knew, named Tom, had just knocked a corporal on his arse. The corporal’s buddy then rushed in for revenge, but another of Portsmouth’s guardsman threw himself into an almighty tackle and knocked the soldier for a loop. Then things descended into an all-out brawl.
“What flavour of shit is this?” Wickstaff bellowed, immediately bringing a halt to the melee. She marched up to face the men, her face reddening. The force of her shout made the hairs on the back of Maddy’s neck stand up. Portsmouth’s men stood to attention and saluted.
“General Wickstaff,” said Tom. “I’m sorry. These men were ordering us to leave our posts.”
Wickstaff glanced at the corporal, still down on his ass. “Why is that?”
“Because I ordered it,” said General Thomas. “I want professional soldiers keeping watch over Portsmouth.”
“These civilians have kept this place safe for the best part of a year.”
“It’s in ruins.”
“Exactly,” said Wickstaff. “Without these men, it would have been wiped completely off the face of the Earth. Be thankful you have come home to ruins.”
“Nonetheless, I shall be organising new shift duties.”
“That’s fine, but do you really think it needs to happen on the very day you arrive here? What happened to smooth and painless?”
“General, we didn’t start the fight,” said Tom. “They were talking shit to us like we were a bunch of kids. We’re every bit the soldiers they are.”
The corporal got up and snickered. “Not even close.”
Wickstaff eyeballed the man. “Well, this civilian just knocked you on your arse, boy, so perhaps you should reconsider what you think you know about ordinary people.”
Tom spoke again. “General, we never wanted this to—”
“Brigadier,” General Thomas barked. “You are addressing a brigadier, not a general.”
Tom frowned, clearly confused. Wickstaff gave a slight nod to assure him. “It’s okay, lad. A few changes are coming, but it’s all for the good.”
General Thomas began tapping his foot, a bottle rocket ready to launch. “Brigadier Wickstaff, why are you allowing men to address you as ‘General’?”
“Because I assumed it would be more efficient to inform the entire base tomorrow morning after I’ve had my first night’s sleep in nine months. Unless you would like me to correct them all, one by one, until they learn.”
“Do not test me, Brigadier. I’ve already made my peace with the condition of this place, but things change right now. Relieve the civilians from their duties and allow my men to replace them.”
Wickstaff gave Maddy a sideways glance, but Maddy had no idea what it was meant to convey. Nor did she know what would happen next. Thomas was completely out of order. He couldn’t get away with this.
Wickstaff stood in silence for a moment, breathing in and out slowly. She turned to the guardsmen, Tom. “Remove all guards from their posts and give them the night off. Assemble in Dining Room Two at twenty one hundred. I have seventeen bottles of red wine I’ve been collecting and they’ll be waiting for you all.”
Tom was shocked for a moment, but then a modest grin took over his lips. Not only did he unexpectedly have the night off, but he could spend it getting pissed – a rarity nowadays as there were more people in Portsmouth than alcohol.
Tom ran off to give the orders, but Maddy didn’t feel relieved by the tension breaking. She’d just witnessed Wickstaff lose even more power. Uniformed strangers would now guard Portsmouth – troublemakers who looked down on the people whose home this was. Did Wickstaff understand that? She had just bowed to General Thomas in front of her own people. Humiliation.
General Thomas glared at Wickstaff. Wickstaff glared back. “This isn’t the way to do things, General,” she said evenly. “You said your people would respect my people.”
“They aren’t your people any more.”
“That’s where you’re dead wrong, and if you treat them like second-class citizens, they’ll never be your people. I am on board with the transition of power, but this is not the way.”
General Thomas gritted his teeth for a moment – resembling a snarling ferret – but then he let out a sigh. “They never make it easy on you, do they?”
Wickstaff frowned. “Who?”
“Who d’you bloody well think? The men! Treat them like adults and they behave like children. I agree, Brigadier Wickstaff, this isn’t the way to do things. You mentioned red wine. You don’t happen to have any brandy, do you?”
Wickstaff was visibly confused, and so was Maddy, yet it was she who spoke. “Um, we have several bottles in Storeroom Three, sir. I could get a bottle if you’d like?”
General Thomas glanced at Wickstaff and raised a fuzzy grey eyebrow. “Any imminent threats you’re aware of?”
She shook her head. “No significant demon gatherings for thirty miles at least.”
General Thomas grinned at Maddy. “Better make it three, sweetheart. I’d like to share a drink with you both.”
“I don’t usually drink with men I dislike,” said Wickstaff, “but I suppose it’s a different world we’re living in. I’ll bring the crisps.”
General Thomas chuckled and walked away. “Excellent. I’ll be in your old office, Brigadier.”
Smithy was tied up, his hands bound with bandages. A thick, corded wire – taken from some machine back inside the hospital – encircled his thighs. He could still walk, but he did so like a penguin with a boil on its ass. His sprained ankle wasn’t making things any easier.
Frankie growled at him. “Keep moving.”
“It’s about to get dark!” Smithy groaned. His nose was throbbing and dried blood irritated his nostrils.
How the hell did my day end like this? This morning, I thought dog shit was the worst of my problems. Now a demon has taken me prisoner.
“So what?” asked Frankie. “Are you afraid of the dark?”
“No, but I’ll need to make camp and sleep. I think you keep forgetting I’m alive. If you appreciated that a little more, I wouldn’t have tried to ditch your ass.”
“Try it again and I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
Smithy rolled his eyes. “Nice. So, are we still looking for your brother?”
“No! I ever see that traitor again, I’ll kill him.”
“Because he shot you?”
“Yeah.”
Can’t blame him. Sounds like he was the brother with the brains.
“What do you want with me then? Let me go.”
“You’re my pet now. My little bitch to play with whenever I like. And you know what happens to bitches, don’t you?”
Smithy rolled his eyes. “Just be cool, okay? We can still be mates.”
Frankie whacked him in the back of the head. “Nah, I don’t want to be mates with a pussy that legs it as soon as I turn my back.”
