David Moody - Them or Us

I’d like to have heard the rest of his bullshit and lies, but Llewellyn isn’t even allowed to get to the end of his sentence, let alone finish his story. In a movement so sudden and unexpected that I don’t realize what’s happening until it’s done, Hinchcliffe drops his shoulder and charges into him, sending him flying over the edge of the roof. There’s a moment of complete silence—everything everywhere seems to stop suddenly—then I hear him hit the ground. There’s no need to look, but I don’t have any choice. Hinchcliffe puts one hand around my shoulder, grabs hold of my arm with his other hand, and pushes me toward the edge. Below us, Llewellyn’s body lies impaled on a spiked metal railing, dangling down by its legs, head cracked open on the concrete like an egg. “Nasty,” Hinchcliffe says. Bastard. Llewellyn was supposed to be getting me out of here, but at this moment in time I don’t give a shit about him, I’m more concerned about what Hinchcliffe’s going to do next. The tightness of his hold on me increases. I start to struggle, but he’s far stronger than I am and there’s nothing I can do. I try to dig my feet in, hoping I can get a grip and overbalance him, because if I’m going down, this fucker’s going with me. He moves a hand and grasps the back of my neck and pushes my head farther forward until I’m leaning right over.

“Hinchcliffe, I…,” I start, not knowing what I’m trying to say, fighting to keep my balance and not fall. He suddenly pulls me back, spins me around, pushes me away, and laughs at me.

“Just playing with you!”

“What? But I…” I stagger away from him, trying to quickly put maximum distance between us.

“Don’t worry, son,” he says, “I know the score.”

“Do you?” Fuck, I wish I did. I move away from the edge of the roof, still backing away, and he follows me toward the door that leads back down into the building.

“I knew that fucker was up to something,” he explains. “I’d had my suspicions for a while, but all that business with the plane really sealed it for me. Did he think I was stupid? Llewellyn was a hard bastard and he had his uses, but he wasn’t nearly as smart as he liked to think he was. Honestly, did he really think I’d buy all that bullshit about piling a few pals into a van and driving off to find that fucking airplane? Come on, give me some credit. That was one of the reasons I sent you along, too, to screw things up for him and complicate whatever it was he was actually trying to do.”

“One of the reasons?”

“Yeah, that and the fact I knew there was a good chance you’d end up back here again. I knew you’d help me fill in the blanks. Our pal Llewellyn and whoever he was working for, they’re not the only people who like to indulge in the odd spot of subterfuge and double-crossing. When I sent you all out the other day, I sent Curtis after you. He followed you into Norwich, stuck around long enough to see this so-called army that’s supposed to be coming, then came back and told me all about it.”

“What he saw was only part of the army. There are reinforcements coming. Thousands of them.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Why shouldn’t I?”

“Because I’ve seen them, Danny. I’ve got people out there watching. They’ve told you thousands, but there are just a few hundred of them loitering at either end of town. Ask yourself, if they were as all-powerful and all-conquering as they’d have you believe, wouldn’t they have conquered already?”

“I suppose, but—”

“It’s all spin, trying to make themselves seem more impressive than they actually are. Who’s behind all this?”

“Remember Chris Ankin?”

“Chris who?”

“He used to be in the government.”

Hinchcliffe thinks for a second. “Ahh … I’ve got him. Works and Pensions minister before the war, wasn’t he? Just another mouthpiece in a gray pinstripe suit. All talk and no balls. Pathetic. Thing about people like that,” he continues, “is that you should never believe anything they tell you. There’s always a hidden agenda.”

“Ankin was the one who spread the messages, though, remember? The one who coordinated the attacks on the cities.”

“There you go, my point exactly. He’s got you completely suckered in. I thought you were smarter than that, Dan. Nobody really coordinated those attacks, they occurred naturally. What happened in the cities was inevitable, and only someone who had either something to prove or something to hide would try to take credit for them.”

“Does that really matter now? Fact is, they’re marching on Lowestoft.”

Hinchcliffe walks away, shaking his head. He sits down in his deckchair in the center of the roof and starts scanning the horizon through a pair of binoculars.

“So do you think I should be worried?”

“What kind of a question is that? Of course you should be worried. Haven’t you been listening to anything I said, there’s a fucking army marching on Lowestoft and they want you out. Doesn’t matter how big it is, it’s a fucking army!”

He continues to stare into the distance, looking back now in the direction from which Llewellyn and I approached a short while ago. Even from up here I can see signs of activity in the streets around the compound.

“Are they well armed?”

“They’ve got more than you have. Tanks and all sorts…”

“Probably haven’t got a lot of ammo, though.”

“So? A tank’s a tank. They’ll drive straight through the gates, Hinchcliffe.”

“And what’s been the reaction of the good folk of Lowestoft so far?”

“I’ve seen some trying to fight, some just keeping out of the way. Most seem to be doing whatever they’re told to do. You know the score, Hinchcliffe. It’s like Llewellyn used to say, always get in good with the person with the biggest gun.”

“So why here?”

“What?”

“That’s the thing I don’t understand. Why are they so interested in Lowestoft?” he asks. He genuinely has no idea. “Surely someone who’s as powerful as this Ankin guy claims to be could take their pick of anywhere. Why here? Are they just trying to prove a point?”

“They’re here because this place is all that’s left. Ankin figures this is pretty much the population center of the country now.”

For a few seconds Hinchcliffe is quiet. He has a bemused expression on his face, and I can see him trying to come to terms with what I’ve just told him.

“Fuck me…”

“That’s what I said when I found out—but I think it’s true, Hinchcliffe, everywhere else is dead.”

“So why did you come back here, Danny? It’s out of the frying pan, into the fire for you, isn’t it?”

“Because they made me” is my immediate answer. “When I refused, the bastards drugged me and chained me up inside a van. I didn’t have any choice. Believe me, I’d rather be anywhere but here.”

He looks puzzled. “Strange. Why go to all that effort?”

“Because I’m supposed to be a decoy. I was supposed to keep you busy while Llewellyn spread the word around town that you were under attack.”

“And he thought that was going to work? Jesus Christ, Llewellyn was more of an idiot than I thought. My fighters might be hard as nails, but they’ll run like everybody else if their necks are on the line.”

“I tried to tell him. I said you wouldn’t listen.”

He pauses to think again. I’m numb with cold and I want to get off this roof, but Hinchcliffe hasn’t finished with me yet.

“Tell me, Dan,” he continues, “what would you do? If you were standing in my shoes right now, what would you do?”

“For a start, I would never be in your shoes,” I answer quickly, deciding that there’s no point being anything other than honest with him. “I’m not like you. It’s stupid bastards like you who caused all this mess.”