Christopher Nuttall - Their Darkest Hour

She gritted her teeth as the aliens started to dismount their vehicles, weapons at the ready, followed by their tame policemen. The internet had been ranting and raving about collaborators — and so many rumours that it was difficult to know what was fact and what was fiction — but actually seeing collaborators in the flesh was a different story. They looked as if they were confident, expecting no opposition — and they might be right. The BBC had been claiming that the remainder of the British military had been destroyed; looking down at the aliens, Alex started to wonder if they had been telling the truth. She might be the last surviving servicewoman in Britain.

No , she told herself firmly. That couldn’t be true. She was isolated, but there would be others out there somewhere, waiting for the chance to hit back at their new enemies. And even if she was alone, she still had her duty. All she had to do was wait until the right moment. Until then, she just had to watch and allow the memories to become burned into her mind. The aliens and their collaborators had arrived in Long Stratton.

They’d developed their own procedure for securing towns and villages by now. The policemen used loudspeakers to summon all of the townsfolk out of their homes and ordered them to wait on the green while the aliens searched the village. Looking at their big hulking forms, Alex felt a chill running down her spine. She would have sooner believed in a rogue military officer launching a coup than in aliens, even though she’d seen their aircraft. The clattering of the helicopters grew louder as one skimmed over her position, so low that Alex was convinced, just for a few moments, that she’d been spotted. There was no way to know what the townspeople were telling the policemen down below.

She shuddered. The aliens had made their instructions quite clear; everyone in the country was to be registered, fingerprinted and given an ID card — no exceptions. And the internet had made it clear that the moment they discovered that she was a RAF pilot, they would take her away and no one would know what had happened to her. So she’d taken the risk of hiding, along with a handful of young men who were willing to resist the aliens. Alex hoped that it wasn’t all just mindless bravado. There was no way to know what someone was made of until the shit hit the fan, by which time it might be too late. It was one of the reasons why military training was so intensive, in the hopes of weeding out the unsuitable before it was too late.

And if her little band was caught…? There was no way to know. The aliens might simply execute them on the spot, or take them to one of their detention camps or… she shook her head, concentrating on the scene before her. One by one, the townspeople were being processed and registered. Smith and his wife had remained on their farm. They probably wouldn’t be processed until later — she hoped. And they’d been warned not to breathe a word about her…

One hand touched the pistol at her belt as the hours wore on. Watching made it seem almost surreal, with the aliens watching over their collaborators — their unarmed collaborators. Alex found that a warming sight; it was clear that the aliens didn’t trust the policemen with live weapons. Perhaps the police hadn’t been so badly subverted after all. But she couldn’t count on anything…

Down below, a scuffle had broken out. She peered, wishing she’d dared bring a pair of binoculars, trying to make out what was going on. The policemen had pulled a man out of the crowd, a middle-aged gentleman she didn’t know. Why… she realised why a moment later, just as she saw his crying wife and older children. He’d been in the army and returned to life as a civilian. It hadn’t been enough to save him, or his son. The young man had lunged at a policeman, only to be knocked down and arrested by another. God alone knew what would happen to them.

She gritted her teeth again, forcing herself to watch. Whatever else happened, she would not forget. And those who had been killed would be avenged.

Night was falling as she approached the disused barn, one that had once belonged to a farmer who had sold out and left the country. It had fallen into a dilapidated state, but her small team had done wonders to ensure that no light could be seen coming from the barn in the darkness. The aliens didn’t seem to patrol the country very effectively, yet there was no point in taking chances. They were taking quite enough with the elderly explosives as it was.

“They used to put this stuff in flour,” Archer was saying to his small group of students. “The Chinese would use it to smuggle gunk past the Japanese — it could actually be baked and eaten without poisoning the poor bastard who actually ate it. We may have to use it the same way.”

Alex frowned. The collection of weapons and explosives from World War Two had been looked after carefully, but an alarming number had decayed badly. Some of the detonator pens — designed for early IEDs — were unreliable. They’d been state of the art in 1940, Archer had assured her, but now… they would have to be careful. There were some nasty tricks that could be played with even disused explosives, yet… she had nightmares where one of the students accidentally blew up the barn or the weapons store. At least they’d managed to scatter smaller dumps around the area. Losing one wouldn’t cost them everything.

“I think it’s time for a break,” Archer said, as he spied her. The young men stood up and scattered. They’d been warned to be very careful — and avoid the aliens at all costs. “Did you find out what you wanted to know?”

Alex nodded, but waited for the barn to empty before she spoke. “They’re parked in a camping field, some miles away,” she said, flatly. “I think they’ll have to leave the way they came, unless they intend to go cross-country.”

Archer nodded. “I have the surprise all ready for them,” he said. “I’m coming with you…”

“No, you’re not,” Alex said, flatly. “You know much more about these weapons than I do. We can’t afford to lose you — at least not yet.”

Archer didn’t look pleased, but he accepted her comment. “Make sure you place it properly,” he said, firmly. “I spent too much trouble making it to have you fail to blow up the right people.”

Twenty minutes later, Alex and two of the lads headed out over the countryside, heading for where the collaborators were parked. She was mildly surprised that the aliens had chosen to stay with them, but it worked in her favour. Assuming that the aliens were jumpy and had night-vision gear, she kept her small force from going any closer than the grit bin she’d noticed by the side of the road. It took longer than she’d feared to empty the grit into the road and pack the bomb into the bin, but they made it. Her first IED didn’t look very professional, yet it should do the trick. Or so she told herself.

Sending the two boys back to their homes, she found a hiding place and settled down to wait. There was no way of knowing just when the collaborators would start to move, but the aliens — according to the internet — were hard taskmasters. They might well decide to start when dawn rose above the horizon, whatever their human subordinates thought. Besides, it was almost traditional to attack at dawn. Any human force would be awake and on guard at that point, at least if it was on deployment.

She was yawning when she heard two helicopters high overhead, followed by the sound of vehicle engines rumbling into life. It wasn’t quite dawn yet — perhaps the aliens were harder taskmasters than she had assumed. Or perhaps they were just bastards. It hardly mattered. A moment later, she saw lights in the distance, suggesting that the aliens were on their way. She’d been worried about accidentally blowing up civilians, but most civilian vehicles had run out of petrol in the last few days. The remaining supplies were being carefully hoarded.