Hope & Fury (Heroes & Demons Book 2)

Unlike the rest of the city, Minster square seemed to be an oasis of calm. Eerily so, especially with only the occasional spots of moonlight breaking through the dissipating clouds above as their source of light. The Minster had been through the wars, the windows all shattered and the left tower a crumbled mess. The right bell tower still seemed intact but the damage would be untold in terms of repair cost throughout the rest of the building.

If there was anyone left to repair it when the night was done anyway – that was not a guarantee.

Andrew and Rick arrived at the south edge of the square, facing the Minster. There seemed to be no one else about – the wide-open space a strange oasis in a city built on three-story narrow, often cobbled streets jam-packed year-round with tourists. Behind them was a Tudor pub claiming to be the birthplace of Guy Fawkes. He’d been in once or twice, they did a nice real ale or two – even if they did take the ye-olde fancy a little bit to the tacky side. They even had only candles on the tables – though soon switched to bulb rather than wick after a couple of drunken incidents.

Ah yes, just like the Tudor times.

“I don’t know if I’ve spotted the obvious flaw here, but won’t a secret government bunker be hard to find?” Andrew pointed out. It was true that as they looked around the flat open square which seemed to have not so much as a statue in it, there was no obvious sign saying ‘here lies a government nuclear bunker’. He wondered if the entrance weren’t actually inside the ruined façade of the Minster, as if somehow the Church of England made a lucrative deal.

“Oh, Andrew, you used to work for the government and you don’t know how to spot one?” Rick chided him, only semi-jokingly. “First of all, if you’re going to hide something its best done in plain sight. And secondly, more importantly, the government has a distinct lack of imagination. Meaning you look for the blandest, most unassuming office-like building you can find and then look for the lift in the back.”

“How do you know the lift would be in the back?” he asked him, suspiciously.

“Okay, so Drake told me all the details before we left, I’m not a complete idiot,” Rick answered, “It’s that travel agent over there next to Mrs Miggins’ tea room. Does it not look like they only do SAGA holidays? Told you it’d be bland.”

They raced across the square, Andrew feeling the disquieting certainty that they were being watched. Seen. It unnerved him but only served as a distraction to their current task. When they reached the closed up travel agents he was about to transport – only to find Rick, several steps ahead of him, had already swung the nearest bin through the glass front of the shop. He was shocked to find there was no sudden ringing of an alarm – and then had to remind himself the whole city was power dead.

“Jeez, half of these resorts sound more like care homes – like there’s a place called Shady Pines in the Maldives.” Rick, getting himself distracted again. Andrew’s focus was sharp, scanning the room with his eyes allowing them to adjust to the darkness.

“Come on,” he snapped at his companion. Rick followed him deeper into the surprisingly large store. It went back further than they had imagined – but of course, it did. Passed rows of desks for people who had probably never worked there, devoid of personal items and the usual touches that accompany someone’s desk. He once worked with a lass who put inspirational quotes on every available surface in her office space. She even sat on a pillow containing the phrase Hakuna Matata. A bit like sitting on the face of your childhood but he hadn’t bothered to raise the point.

The lift was as Rick had said – directly at the very back of the building. Why they would have a lift for a two-storey building Andrew didn’t know but they must have justified it to the occasional drifter-in somehow.

“Did Drake say how we use a lift without any electricity?” Andrew snarked at him, but Rick was already wandering off again.

“Sure,” his voice floated from the darkness, “She said we use the stairs.”

A click of his utility belt and the world was lit once more in a dispassionate white glow. He indicated to the door nearby and together they entered into the darkened stairwell. He glanced, an MC-Escher-feeling of complete vertigo washing over him and regretted it instantly. They were going down, very well down.

Step after step they wound their way slowly down into the darkness. The air growing cooler, even perhaps the faint pop in his ears telling him they were going deep. At each landing, a battery-powered strip of red emergency lighting had come on, very dim.

“If they are down here – why the hell wouldn’t they have left yet?” he wondered out loud, his voice echoing. His question was answered when they reached the very bottom level and found themselves face to face with a huge, concrete, electronically sealed door. It was something more akin to a pressurised lock of a bank vault than to a bunker. “Oh bugger.”

“Yeah, they haven’t left because they’re sealed in,” Rick pointed out, “Which is a good thing for us because it probably means they don’t have the generators running in there. Not able to end the world if you can’t push the button that does it.”

“Yes, but then how the hell do we get in?” he snapped.

“Look, I may seem like it but I don’t have all the answers,” Rick responded, “All I know is over the past few days we’ve learnt a lot about ourselves and pushing the boundaries of our powers. Sandy is almost able to fly, Louise has proven that the serum does something to people without the junk DNA we have; I have found an affinity for ice and snow as well. We also know full well that the whole reason you’re not able to transport into the Siberian wilderness from a standing start is because in your entire uptight adult life you’ve not once let the bloody hell go.”

“Are you quite finished?” Andrew asked him.

“Well, I haven’t called you a name yet, but I’ll work it into a future conversation.”

Andrew sighed, turning to the door, placing both hands on it.

“If I try and transport us through, we could get stuck in the middle of the door – I don’t know how thick it is.”

“Believe it or not it’s not the first time I’ve heard that,” Rick quipped from behind him. “Look, just put your mind to one side, try to think only about the air on the other side. Seek it out, feel for it – like you did with the sunken boat. Try to connect with it, close your eyes.”

Feeling stupid and like it was a million miles away from possible, Andrew did as Rick suggested. He closed his eyes, his calmed his mind, reached out with his being, feeling for his element. Attempting to connect with it, to draw on its awesome life-giving power.

Then he heard the quick rush of steps behind him and suddenly knew what Rick was planning.

“Kowabunga!” he cried as he leapt at full sprint onto Andrew’s back, throwing his arms around his neck, his legs around his waist in the piggyback he’d threatened. He felt his rage swarm up inside him as the full weight of the man drove them both forward. He expected to hit hard concrete with his face and instead stumbled through the air, light as a feather, even the weight of the man behind him was no longer felt.

Inexplicably they were through, finding themselves in a wide-open corridor. Solid mass once more, lit by the same awful red battery-powered emergency strip lighting. Looking up Andrew saw that their arrival had been predicted, a wall of agents, officers, whatever the security forces called themselves these days had heard or seen the commotion somehow and were waiting for them – guns at the ready.

He then realised the absurdity of the scene they were confronted with. These poor, frightened officers who had absolutely no idea what was happening up in the world above; were confronted with an invading force consisting of a bearish white guy riding piggyback style a British-Indian bloke, both of them dressed in what to them would look like wetsuits and clearly able to walk through walls.

“Hey guys, before you shoot we’re the goodies,” Rick greeted them, not bothering to jump off yet, “So could you, like, take us to your leader?”

A calm, composed gentleman appeared between two of the agents. Andrew recognised him very well, he’d been Minister of Defence at the time he’d been in the Special Forces – he’d even shaken his hand at the end of his service. Since then he had worked his way up through the current political system to land himself the top spot in the country. Andrew had voted for him.

“Aw, wow,” Rick continued, “The prime minister’s a black guy, why didn’t you tell me we finally had a black Prime Minister? This is so cool.”

“Maybe if we’re here to convince him to help us save the world, we don’t bring race into it?”

“I know but it pleases me to think of the EDL being pissed off,” Rick answered, “Please tell me he bats for my team as well? Go diversity!”

The leader of the UK, the Prime Minister, looked directly at the sorry scene in front of him and asked in quite impolite terms,

“Who the fuck are you two?”