Paul Grzegorzek - Flare

“Well if he wants one of those, we’ll give him one.” For the first time since we’d met, I saw a flash of emotion in Roger’s eyes and it was all anger. “There’s a chain of command and he bloody knows it.”

“There’s more,” I said, hoping that I was making the right decision by telling this complete stranger everything.

“Go on.”

“My friend Emily, she discovered something yesterday. She was working on lists of possible supply sites and she found one that dated back to two days before the flare.”

“You what?”

I nodded. “Someone knew it was going to happen. If information like that were to reach the government, who would be the first person to find out?”

Rogers ground his teeth. “Any project advanced enough to know what was going to hit us would be run by the military, so it would go through the Defence Secretary. No bloody wonder he just happened to find himself at a Logistics base when it all kicked off!”

His hands tightened on his rifle, and for one terrible moment I thought he was going to break the ceasefire right there with me still stuck in the middle, but he forced his hands to relax.

“Thank you Malcolm,” he said, “this is crucial intel. I need to get back to the PM with it, see what he wants to do.”

“They’ve got a squad moving around behind the petrol station,” I said, remembering, “so if you try to get away then they’ll cut you down.”

Rogers grinned suddenly, making him look surprisingly youthful.

“No they won’t. While we’ve been talking my men have been slipping out into the woods. Anyone tries to follow us and they’ll have a nasty surprise. You’re welcome to come with us if you want?”

I shook my head. “I’d love to, but Emily is still with them, and I can’t go anywhere without her.”

He nodded and shook my hand. “Well, if you don’t mind going back and telling the Secretary that we’re considering our options, I’d be very grateful. It should give us time to get away. And if there’s anything else we can do, now is the time to ask.”

“I don’t suppose you could create some kind of distraction, could you?” I asked hopefully, and was surprised to hear him laugh.

“Now that,” he said as he stepped backwards into the shadows, “just happens to be our speciality.”

“What did they say?” The Secretary demanded the moment I was within earshot.

“I put our side across,” I lied smoothly, “and he’s asked for some time to consider it.”

“Do you think they’ll come over?”

I shrugged. “He seemed like a sensible man, I reckon he’ll realise which way the wind is blowing and act accordingly.”

His eyes narrowed at that, and I forced myself to remember that whatever this man was, he wasn’t stupid.

“I explained how important it was that we don’t waste resources fighting each other when there’s so little left,” I said hurriedly, “and he promised to come back to us within quarter of an hour.”

He nodded at that, mollified. “Well it’s not as though they can slip away, we have the place surrounded.”

He turned to the Major. “Curtis, assume command. If we receive no answer within fifteen minutes then we’re going in.”

The other man nodded and hurried away, taking the other soldiers with him apart from the drivers who kept their vehicles idling to prevent the batteries draining.

“Did he say how many men they had?” The Secretary pressed, but I shook my head.

“He didn’t give anything away, I’m afraid. He did agree that he didn’t want more violence, however.”

“Well that’s very much up to him seeing the light, isn’t it. We can’t go having rogue units zipping about the countryside stealing our resources, now, can we?”

I could have driven a truck through the holes in his logic but wisely chose not to say anything.

As the Secretary called another soldier over and began detailing orders, I slipped back towards where Emily leaned against the nearest vehicle.

“What the hell was that about?” She demanded in a low voice.

“Making friends,” I said just as quietly. “And with any luck getting us away from here. Their leader promised us a distraction, so if something happens get ready to act.”

“Something being what, exactly?”

I shrugged and spread my hands. “No idea, but I think it’ll be big.”

I was imagining some kind of explosion possibly, charges set up to go off inside the petrol station or something equally flamboyant, but when the distraction came it surprised us all.

Fifteen minutes came and went, and the Major sent a runner back to the Secretary to confirm the order to storm the building.

The Secretary strode forward impatiently to get a view of the petrol station himself, but only got a few yards when something small and fast tore through the night air, his Kevlar helmet flying off his head as the sound of a distant shot reached us and he fell to the ground, screaming.

“Ambush!” The cry went up even as the soldiers opened fire, pouring bullets into the surrounding hedgerows with a roar that seemed to shake the very earth, the night suddenly alive with muzzle flashes.

I stood and watched in amazement, unsure if we truly were under attack or if this was the distraction we’d been promised.

“Come on!” Emily grabbed my shoulder and spun me in a half-circle as she sprinted towards the last Landrover, the driver already turning the vehicle in preparation for a quick getaway.

“Orders!” Emily snapped through the open window, and the driver, drilled by years of practice to obey instantly, stopped the vehicle and leaned over to hear what she had to say.

She barely slowed as she reached through the window, grabbing his un-helmeted head and slamming it hard into the door frame. He cried out in pain and she did it a second time, then tore the door open and pulled him, stunned, to the ground.

“Get in,” she shouted over the gunfire as she grabbed his sidearm and vaulted into the driver’s seat.

I jumped in the back, and by the time I had the door closed she was already off down the road, accelerator flat to the floor.

I kept low, expecting shots through the back windscreen at any moment, but none came and after a few moments I straightened.

“Are we being followed?” Emily called over the noise of the engine. I looked back over my shoulder, watching for any tell-tale lights but saw nothing.

“I think we’re ok,” I said, climbing awkwardly into the front between the seats. “Thank you.”

“For what?” She didn’t look over, too intent on keeping us on the road in the dark.

“For acting so quickly. Had it been down to me I’d probably still be standing there trying to work out what was happening.”

“You’re welcome. Good distraction by the way, that was one hell of a shot, whoever fired it.”

I nodded. “I was expecting them to blow the petrol station up.”

“What, and waste all the petrol in the tanks? Not likely.”

“So what now?”

“We head north again. Let’s see how far this heap of junk will get us, maybe find some diesel somewhere if we get too low.” She flicked the fuel gauge and I saw that it was showing about half a tank. I assumed that was good news, then I remembered how thirsty Landrovers tended to be.

“How long do you think it’ll take us to get to Manchester from here?” I asked, “can we do it in one run?”

She laughed. “We’re not on foot anymore Malc, Manchester’s only about three hours away by car.”

After days of walking, it seemed almost inconceivable that we could get halfway across the country so quickly, and I realised how much my worldview had changed in the last week.