SWNOVELS Chapter 45
The news had broken swiftly into a whirling mass of confusion and contradictions. Some people thought the end was coming and they didn’t know how close they were to being right. As Rick’s military-looking transport plane, a supply of Drake’s friends, swept through the sunlight high above the clouds he was afforded the time to think.
He could see it all now – the elegant simplicity of the plan. The simple efficiency of using own our nature against us. And the brutal inevitability of the end. He kept the thoughts to himself, occasionally using the smartphone provided to look through the latest news and speculations.
It had been an older style model, as Drake had rightly predicted, it was crude and exploded quite some height above the city. The physical blast had never actually reached the city itself, though a shockwave had managed to knock down some of the taller buildings – one spire of the minster now lay in a golden heap at its doors. But it had had two far more worrying effects – one, it had knocked out any and all electricity for miles around the radius of the city centre and the blast. Every single thing that had ever been touched by a computer or by any form of technology or power had gone.
Buses and cars had crashed, electrical substations had blown – everything.
And secondly was the radiation – the part of the news cycle which seemed to change with the channel. The invisible monster was very much unseen – and so far ranged from being a lethal dose of radiation which would melt the population within hours, to perhaps an insidious low level which would only be seen in years to come when the children of the ‘survivors’ were born. The government were remaining tight-lipped, the prime minister hadn’t even been seen giving a speech yet – a sure-fire sign that they were as in the dark as everyone else.
There were at this moment an unknown number of causalities, a statement put out almost on the minute by the eager news presenters. Most of them seemed far too happy about the ‘Event’, while others, particularly the older generations, seemed downright shit scared. Everyone was and they were right to be.
By the time he landed in Manchester, on a runway he was becoming all too familiar with, it was late afternoon. He stepped down from the rear ramp of the plane feeling like some kind of war vet, half expecting a general with a salute. There was no general – though nearby there was a black SUV and a woman in a power-suit, her arm in a fashionably black sling to match her suit and vehicle.
“Welcome back,” she greeted him, “the others are back at your Home Base, shall we join them?”
“Sure,” he agreed, “What happened to you anyway?”
“Shot, you?”
“Nearly lost my left bollock to frostbite, but otherwise ready.”
She betrayed only the slightest of emotions in a small turn of the corner of her mouth, a crude smile perhaps? They got into the car and were driven without incident to Home Base. She filled him in on the way regarding Ruth’s disappearance – or capture more like – and what happened on the North East coast.
Angel had been hauled out of the ocean by a terrified fisherman who initially thought he’d captured a mermaid – but was disappointed by the lack of breasts. Andrew’s tussle with the dark angel had been brief, ending up with him landing hard on a pebble beach. Sandy had likewise done her crash landing, scorching half a field’s worth of some protected coastline. Given other events, it would be some time before the fine would arrive.
They had all gathered, her people were quickly sorting through the remains left over from their battle in the warehouse – bringing some of the more unusual items to the Home Base’s lab for analysis.
In short efficient, but possibly pointless.
“Put a man in a room on his own and there will still be conflict,” he began when they were all gathered. He stood at the fireplace in Ruth’s office, regarding his motley assembled crew. Hardly the Avengers, but it would do. “It’s inevitable. We’re fighting all the time with ourselves – why did we do that? Why do I feel that way? It’s who we are. Conflict begins inside and simply scales up and scales up, amplifies until we have two people who’ve never met prepared to kill each other in the name of men and women who don’t care.”
“That’s what Atlas is counting on, and why he’s doing this. And why there’s a hell of a good chance he will win.”
“Bit defeatist,” Drake pointed out.
“It’s better to know what you’re up against, wouldn’t you agree?” he countered, she shrugged. “So first, he attacks an army base in the middle of nowhere – in UK army uniforms. Then he nukes a UK city – whether it was intentional that it exploded above or just down to good old reliable military – who knows? Maybe it doesn’t matter.”
“Yeah, but why York?” Sandy asked, “If you’re going to EMP somewhere, surely it’d make more sense to hit London. Bigger population, bigger casualty damage – meltdown the stock market and bring about economic collapse. Heck, even hit the seat of government.”
“They’re actually not there,” Drake interrupted. “Or at least the Prime Minister isn’t.”
“Where is he?”
“Currently hunkered down in a bunker underneath the city of York,” she explained. “He and several of his key ministers were visiting factories or whatever nonsense they’re doing at the moment to pretend they still care about the Northern Powerhouse. I believe when the MOD picked up the inbound missile he was whisked very swiftly to the bunker under the Minster.”
“There’s a bunker under the Minster?” Louise asked, incredulous.
“There are bunkers in every major city,” Drake admitted, “Built during the Cold War when it was going to be a nuclear holocaust every other Thursday. Should have its own independent generators which may or may not have been knocked out in the blast.”
“Explains why he’s not been smarming on TV,” Sandy scoffed, “He’s probably wetting his pants that the rescue teams won’t get to him in time.” Sandy had a very permanent dislike for politicians that went far beyond her usual bile and distaste for the human population at large. “But why make it appear that some country halfway around the world wants to blow us up? What does that achieve?”
“You know when you wear skinny jeans you look like Dr Robotnik with a muffin top?” he made her aware, casually. With a thunderous look, she kicked him hard in the shin. “That, there. Retaliation. That’s what he wants. They gave us a bloody nose, so now trigger happy Minister goes and blows up one of their cities. Grad suddenly goes from being a mind-your-own-business state to suddenly being the catalyst for dragging in all other nations. Do you think Russia is going to like a former soviet state being bombed by the British? Do you think America is going to like Russia getting involved? Do you think any of the major world super and non-super powers are being led by sane, rational individuals with a clue what they’re doing?”
“We’re looking at a massive pile-on, with us crushed under the whole rugby team. And believe me, I know first-hand that’s not as fun as it sounds.”
“I suppose that would explain why they’re wearing army uniforms,” Drake mused, “And why the crates seemed to contain old soviet-issue – the kind worn in Grad. Fan the flames, maybe?”
“With all the media attention on York right now? Sure, that tracks.”
“So what do we do?” Louise asked, the trademark usual bounciness gone from her voice.
“We do what we always do – figure it the hell out.”