my 1st blog on here: JUNIPER'S DAUGHTER - THE FINAL WAR BY NICK ARMBRISTER VERSION ON AMAZON

The Final War,

A novel by Sarah Ginn

THE FINAL WAR

A NOVEL BY SARAH GINN

Thanks and Acknowledgements

Many thanks go out to the following: for everyone who supported me with your understanding during the hard times, I owe you the world. First and foremost a big thanks to my family and friends, you know who you are. Your support knows no ends this is for you. To Julianne Regan for endless inspiration and being my heroine cheers for some great gigs and the best songs. To All About Eve, keep up the touring; your music takes me through the long and dark evenings. Many thanks to my friends for listening to my crazy ideas on my book and thanks to all of you who helped me, gave me advice and support from beginning to end. Again many thanks to my parents who brought me into this fucked up wicked world and our interesting country. I owe all of them the world.

The Final War by Sarah Ginn

Introduction

A time and town so very different from now, several key events have changed European history forever. First the civil war of 2005 – 08 is now over, which led to the break up of United Kingdom. A quarter of a million died achieving what politics never could.

The weeklong conflict with France is over. From what started as a fishing dispute led to a localised nuclear war in which thirty million British and fifty million French perished. The madness that irradiated half of Europe stopped.

A third key event saved the remaining innocents from the abyss. The arrival of a girl with special powers from nowhere, a so-called Goddess of the Earth, she is called Juniper’s Daughter…

Contents

Page2 Introduction

Page4 Prologue

Page5 Beginnings from the edge

Page16 Journey afar

Page29 Party at the end of the world

Page39 English army assault

Page50 The rape of Sarah

Page60 She approaches

Page69 Rescue!

Page82 Altitude

Page97 The house

Page107 Meeting

Page116 Juniper’s Daughter

Page125 Ritual!

Page131 Afterward - Endgame

Prologue

Well, how could it have come to this? How many times had that single question been asked? Not that it mattered now, the dice had been thrown and the result wasn’t good. Why couldn’t the people in charge just talk to each other? Instead of firing all those missiles. Now it was too late, all of those innocents had died. Hadn’t the civil war brought enough bloodshed? Obviously not. Now our once great country was smashed and ruined, thrust back almost to the Stone Age but cavemen never had semi – automatic weapons did they?

I suppose we’ll pull through, one way or another. We have to help ourselves; no one else seems to want to. I wonder, are we the lucky ones sitting here in a bombed out country? It seems true that the meek shall inherit the earth, an earth scorched by the use of nuclear arms and a people living by the law of the gun.

Maybe the dead were the lucky ones, may they rest in peace…

Chapter1 Beginnings from the edge

Oldham was once a key town in the north of England that supplied the world with huge amounts of cotton. Now the mills are gone, the light industries that replaced them are distant memories and not much remains. Things have certainly changed. Not coming full circle but shattering and wrecking it.

After so much strife and conflict people are left questioning the basics of life, morality and humanity. As the atomic clouds parted and forty percent of towns and cities lay flattened, could anything else go wrong? The radiation left many areas as deserts but the half-life of Twenty First Century bombs is measured in years rather than centuries.

Now life begins to edge back to normality. People learn to put the past behind them and look to an uncertain future. One town in what used to be called the north of England begins to live again. With the town physically untouched – unlike so many others, maybe the human spirit can shine through.

A group of young friends, who have seen most things first hand, fall back on each other. There are three of them, all in their mid twenties and local to the area. They have fought in the civil uprising of 05 to 08 and seen things that most could never imagine, through the nuclear exchange, each lost a friend or relative killed or simply missing. So they have had turbulent lives. Now, for the last couple of years, they have concentrated on survival. The last jobs in the town disappeared at the start of the war, now they do anything to make ends meet. Like arms dealing.

That is what Lee does, after all everyone needs a personal weapon in these times of lawlessness. Lee is a mysterious and quiet man; he seems to have so much on his mind but when asked he shrugs it off as nothing. The other two think that he misses his younger sister her whereabouts are unknown. She went to London with her friends to take part in a protest against the threat of war with France but the government ruled with an iron hand and no matter how many tens of thousands of people protested, war went ahead anyway. Lee doesn’t know if his sister died in the nuclear bombardment of our capital city; her death will probably never be confirmed. So Lee lives in pain of not knowing the fate of Debbie, his peace-loving sister. It seems that her journey to London in the weeks before the exchange led to her death, she was one of many who tried and failed to bring peace with no violence.

Lee always carries his nine-millimetre Browning pistol with him; he acquired this from a member of the SAS who way dying of cancer. The now deceased soldier had seen combat, so the pistol had a history but Lee didn’t mind. He just added to that colourful history in more ways than one.

Lee never had a normal job, as he was about to leave school the civil war broke out. With school friends Sarah and John, it was away to fight and defend England against attacks by marauding Welsh revolutionaries. During the years of action, the quiet boy became a man. After witnessing and participating in several war crimes, he questioned everything he had seen and done, he was disillusioned with conflict and vowed never to kill again unless to defend himself. With the uprising over, Lee was “out of a job”. He had learned the skills of close combat, ambushing and weapons training in the dangerous days of his youth. But with his mind now made up, Lee didn’t want to actually fight again, so he fell into arms dealing, in most types of weaponry other than the really big stuff. It was hard for one man to carry a howitzer. He equipped John and Sarah with their personal guns, the exchange of arms and ammo was more than enough to bring a crust in.

Lee is of medium height with wild brown hair that he only cuts when absolutely necessary – every three months to keep it out of his hard grey eyes. Those same eyes have seen many mad and crazy sights but those were unpredictable times so many people had witnessed bad things. He has intelligence equal to any and this brought Lee through the days of revolution and war in one piece. When asked, he would describe himself as an English patriot who would die for his country and his own causes but now he would rather talk about problems than fight over them.

Sarah is the loudest member of the trio, she is brunette with brown eyes the colour of autumn leaves that miss nothing. Her star sign is Leo, which explains her ability to dominate a crowd with her effervescent style. Her humour is her greatest ally, taking her through the tough years. Sarah stood by her two friends in the civil war; she was the only one wounded falling victim to a Welsh sniper, the shot passed through her left shoulder leaving bad scarring. Her recovery was due to the help of her pals and a lot of luck, in the conflict many wounded died to once curable infections. In most areas medical treatment was like back in the Middle Ages, only now are things slowly improving. Sarah and Lee were responsible for organising attacks on rebel bases and supply routes, in highly dangerous operations following brutal rules not recognised by normal armies. This was no normal war where executions and random killings became normal activities, fighting was more like guerrilla warfare in short and fierce engagements. At the other end of the country the Scottish campaign was more open warfare but just as fierce; people died in a bad chapter in British history. Total deaths numbered up to a quarter of a million on all sides. She once admitted to having a three dozen or more war kills to her credit and another twenty plus from her war crime incidents, this is a subject she will normally avoid unless when really pissed – when her beautiful eyes cloud over with great sadness. Now Sarah helps people who have illnesses and such like that can be dealt with; a lot of people come to her with simple things. More serious like radiation sickness are mostly fatal, they number in there thousands, Oldham has several hundred of varying degrees of severity.

Sarah carries her mini Colt 6mm pistol that neatly fits her waistband. After the pain of being wounded she would rather forget the past to move to the future, her hope is of a stable future for the town and herself.

John is the “acquirer” of the group; he can come by anything that people may want, his devious mind allows him to think up all sorts of schemes and propositions for others, if they want booze or stolen clothing he can find it. John is 6ft 2in tall, with dark green eyes, mousy brown hair, powerfully built and skilled in street fighting. As an all rounder he comes out on top nearly every time; other people to John are not necessarily enemies – they can become trading partners. His many contacts over the local area as far as Rochdale are an example of that. When things go wrong John has had to fight his way out of trouble, his broken nose shows past encounters that he’s lost. His star sign is Taurus. A placid, often stubborn man with great survival skill, his friends in tight situations can rely upon John. He can be very laid back when the mood takes him; maybe his Taurean side comes through. Lee’s sign is Libra. John firmly believes the past doesn’t matter, he believes it’s gone, irreplaceably lost but that we must learn its lessons or we could be in trouble if we don’t. Ironically John has thought many times “Let war-faring groups of people talk about their disputes rather than take up arms or the use of violence.” This liberalism all three young people share will be important to the future developments on this ruined island than all the guns or bullets, it will bring hope. Anyhow, Lee, John and Sarah have depended upon one another in the most harrowing years of this new century this is their story.

Sarah remembered a contact with one Welsh unit after they moved against English towns on the Welsh border area. Heavily armed groups of killers murdered, selectively raped and burned then withdrew leaving carnage behind. By the time English freedom fighters reached the area affected it was too late. From over six hundred attacks by Welsh gangsters only two hundred met with any useful resistance being engaged, from single shots to total annihilation of the attacking force. One such engagement took place on a warm night in August 07 at the height of the attacks, one group being caught after attacking a small English border town.

Leading her hunter/killer group down the main street Sarah alone kept count of casualties – eight women, six children, four elderly and three men (who attempted to fight back with pistols). These were what she could see, others would be in burning buildings - thirty houses had been torched, three pubs and a full street of shops. Her armed group was the English blocking force in the right place at the right time, not to stop the Welsh but to hunt them down and to exact a swift and bloody revenge. She remembered the unending battle to destroy their Welsh enemy, an English response to a crazy situation – the destruction of a Welsh village. It’s name didn’t matter, nor did the names of the other ransacked towns or unclaimed corpses.

Sarah herself killed a family of six who hid in their fortified farmhouse. With one of her group laying down covering fire at the front of the house, others covered front and back to stop any escape. Lee crept to the side of the building, hidden in the shadows. Up onto the roof, as silent as the killer he was, he placed a small tarpaulin over the chimney. When the smoke filled the house, the family tried to escape in a desperate gamble to save their lives and get word out – “English attack!”

Only Sarah cut them down with her machine gun. She didn’t kill them, such was her shooting skill in the dark moonlit night and her fire cut their legs from under them. She closed the distance and shot each injured person with her same machine gun on single shot. The men swore and threatened her; the wife wept uncontrollably, the children looked on with terrified eyes. Sarah was the last thing they ever saw before she executed them. Lee and another member of her group searched the house, the torched it after finding nothing of value but spare ammo. Then it was the same with the rest of the small village, let it be known the English had been in town!

On the way back to the border area a single Welsh sniper opened fire on Sarah’s group, killing one man with a classic shot between his eyes and wounding Sarah with a round in her shoulder. Her comrades used their skill to find the sniper, after a brief exchange of gunfire captured him alive. Sarah watched as they cut his balls off, put them in his mouth and poured petrol onto him. Sarah set him on fire then passed out. Pain or disgust?

Unwanted images came to her mind, an English town in flames, one woman tied to a lamppost, raped and stabbed to death. Careful tracking, a fierce fire fight and capture, torture to gain useful information, then execution of the Welsh attackers had been a real deterrent to any future attacks. Then the revenge on the village… all nightmares that never left Sarah. She would certainly end up in hell for her crimes; nothing could ever justify what she did; yet all who lived and survived the mess of the civil war knew it had to be done. Terror bred terror.

It is Winter, January 2015; cold covers everything it can with its wicked fingers. Temperatures of minus 15 are common and only the foolish leave the sanctuary of the warmer buildings but with most of the windows gone, a hard race of people exist in what was once a populous town. Now fifteen years into the new millennium, the law of the toughest rules. There are a lot of hunter/killer raids by rival groups, from ex-warfighters to now minority Asian people to the single silent knifeman on the prowl. It all happens at night.

Where once young people danced and drank the night away, long cold dark shadows hide menacing dangers, the great buildings thrown up at the end of the 20^th and beginning of the 21^st centuries are now private war zones. On nights in January, up to ten people a night die in private wars and murders.

The old business buildings, flats and shops are now home to vagrants, the homeless and a plethora of others, a lot are people with little or nothing in terms of wealth. That can be measured in many ways and taken in as many, from killing a man for his warm clothes to rubbing out a gang member for his automatic weapon.

If an old soldier from the Second World War saw the frozen blood, windowless buildings and slow death of the town, he would be half forgiven for thinking that time had stood still. Maybe it had in a way. There was little transport on the roads, other than remnants of the English army in ten-year-old Armoured Personnel Carriers to the odd moonshine powered car. Petrol scarcely flows and the army heavily guards the single tankers that arrive quarterly, petrol is used sparingly in army vehicles not yet converted to run on gas. Normal people would be shot if they tried to obtain legal fuel, so a moonshine derivative is used when necessary. Most of the oil refineries are gone, bombed flat.

The once great cultural centre of Oldham is now a dead horse, once glitzy clubs, museum and art gallery are now derelict. Who wants to party after the death of millions of people? Maybe God has outlawed such things; it now seems like that in a powerless dark town.

A sudden burst of heavy gunfire cuts through the night sending streams of pretty green tracer shells into the January heavens, no one knows who or why the shooting occurs, it just does. Maybe some drugged up idiot having a laugh? Sarah is jolted awake from a restless sleep, she can’t remember her dreams but they were bad. Cold grips her like an unwelcome friend, telling her she is alive and has to face another day. Noticing her awake John offers her a bottle of spirit to warm her body, she takes the bottle and has a generous swig of the clear liquid. Lee still sleeps, oblivious to his waking friends.

Sarah speaks: “Fuck this, how can it be so cold? I cant believe it. Cheers for the rocket fuel, John.”

“Well, it could be to do with the war and the bombs going off or just the planet getting colder. Fucking hell, I don’t know.”

John had thought many times about the war, its effect on nature’s world, the loss of people, towns, etc. He never came up with any solid answers though, so his answer was the same each time. Maybe one day he would learn all of the reasons why but he knew he wouldn’t like the answers, he wondered how the other nations in Europe coped with after effects of a nuclear war on their doorstep. Though none had used force many had suffered, with either blast damage on bordering towns or radiation and fallout killing thousands of people that lived miles from the war zone. In reality everyone had suffered, with England and France blowing each other to pieces, an embryonic Wales and Scotland was hit hard with casualties in their millions. The civil war finally threw of the chains of rule by London but several years’ later war descended to destroy all. The French due to alleged sympathies with the English targeted Wales and Scotland without mercy, this allegation would never be proven.

Lee finally awoke, his first words were “Oh shit, aint it fucking cold! C’mon troops don’t stare, I need a shit now…”

He got up and went to the corner to do what he had to do in an old bucket; he wiped his arse on an old rag and pulled up his combats. Today bog rolls simply didn’t exist in the old country of England; can you imagine the countries of Europe doing an airdrop of twenty thousand-crap roll? It would never happen.

Sarah picked her stuff up and made her plans for the day, not that it differed from any others. “I’ll leave this derelict flat and head up to the First Aid Station. I’ll take my winter gear, I’ll need it, see you both later.”

With that she grabbed a piece of stale bread off the table and left her pals, they will no doubt be trading guns and ammo or coming by useful items to bargain or trade. A lot of use money was now; shops were empty and gutted long ago.

Suddenly another burst of weapon fire echoed through the empty concrete buildings, no incoming shells troubled them so it was wild fire again.

“Those stupid fuckin’ cunts waistin’ good fuckin’ ammo!” John shouted in annoyance.

“What the hell they shootin’ at, flyin’ fuckin’ pigs?”

“Well see it my way. It’s more bullets to trade to the jarheads,” Lee said.

Sarah made her way from the derelict flats that was now their home on the old St. Mary’s estate to the aid station, this was at the Oldham hospital. Not much was left in the way of medical facilities as most of the building was empty, this was due to the lack of medical supplies and trained people after recent events. What was missing in resources was made up for in human spirit; of this Sarah was an example. She was one of less than a hundred people that did all manner of things, from major operations to post war counselling. Sarah treated people with minor wounds and helped to keep them clean and well. A lot of medicines and cures came from surviving pre-war stocks; very little was made now apart from some natural herbs and plants grown especially in the area.

On arriving Sarah reported to Leah who was in charge during the day shift, she had been at the aid station for two years helping to run the place on next to nothing. How things had changed.

“Hi Sarah, you okay? I’m afraid that it’s more of the usual,” Leah explained.

“Dave is in ward two. His bullet wound needs cleaning and a new dressing putting on after. Stacy’s appendix op is to be watched over – a new doctor will be doing that: he’s called Karl. Keep an eye on him; help him out if he gets into difficulties.”

“If any problems occur I’ll give you a shout. You know what it’s like with people coming in off the streets needing’ help. What’s the chances of any radiation cases?” Sarah added.

“Oh, the usual I suppose. There could be a few or none at all. I wish that we had more trained staff like before the war but we will have to make do. I’ll see you later Sarah. I’ll be around if you need me,” Leah said before going off on her rounds.

Sarah got on with her work, she wasn’t paid but she was given food and any clothing she needed; money was a dinosaur from before the war. Now the financial economy was a distant memory, of no use now. Sarah had worked at the aid station for nearly two years like Leah, she liked her work and helping those who needed it.

John left the flat with Lee but they both went their separate ways. John decided to spend the first couple of hours of daylight scouting out, to see if he could come by anything “of interest”.

Lee headed off to organise an arms shipment to nearby Rochdale, to the ex-war veteran. As of late their arms stock was quite low, Lee wanted to trade for warm clothing, food and any useful information concerning rival gangs. Especially the ones who traded in guns.

John ended up at Arnie’s. Arnie was a local guy who reckoned he was a hard man, this was okay in his own eyes but to others he was a funny bloke just full of himself. He had moved about over the years to cover his own back after a number of dodgy deals had fallen through. He said he was an organised criminal.

“Okay,” said John, “but what do I get to see? Not much but I’ll crash some beers.”

“I’ve got some nice designer leather combat pants from before the war. Over two hundred pairs from a warehouse in Lees village. All sizes, never been worn. Make me an offer John boy.”

John swigged his out of date Sainsbury’s beer, contemplating Arnie’s offer. Was it a dodgy deal? This guy was known for it, John stared into space for a few minutes, thinking of details and of self-gain. People don’t give a fuck about looking cool but they want something useful everyday. Could these combat pants be traded further down the line?

“Yes, I’ll take them but only for the winter,” John said coolly. “Any left and I’ll bring them back to you and exchange for whatever you’ve got at the time. I’ll give you six crates of whiskey and twenty-five bulletproof vests, all unused. Well, numb nuts, what do you say?”

Arnie tried to appear cool, throwing his half drank bottle of beer over his shoulder. It rolled instead of smashing.

“I don’t want any bottles of rats piss or moonshine it better be the real thing or I’ll shoot you. As for the vests, there better be no fuckin’ holes in ‘em. Show me some and we’ll organise a trade.”

The finer details were sorted and John had his load of leather combats. What do I do with these start a fashion show? Hell, they sure look cool; just think of what Sarah will look like in them!

January days dragged on each as cold as the other. While most of Europe had heating and jobs, Oldham and England froze, maybe one-day things will be different but now everyone had to sit it out.

Sarah claimed three pairs of leather combats and yes; she did look like a fox, though Lee and John were easy on what they said in case she pulled a gun on them. Only jokingly of course.

John traded three quarters of the pants with people on the estate for food and some two-year-old beer, which matured some more.

Lee came by some NATO medium range, all use rocket launchers. A wicked weapon that was user friendly ideal for small groups of highly mobile fighters letting them strike at will at different targets from several miles away, such weapons became highly sought after and not many were available, except to military forces. Lee’s trust amongst his contacts ensured that he could come by such high-class weaponry, these would be useful in case anyone started a local war. Lee instructed John and Sarah on how to use them. Sarah said, “I aint that fuckin’ stupid Lee, I know which end to point!”

“I know but you need to programme what type of target that you want to shoot at. You can’t shoot at a plane at medium altitude when the warhead is programmed to kill a tank. This capability is coming online in the second model, not this. So these were going spare. Look… this keypad here has a number of symbols on it and the small LCD display shows you range, target choice, warhead configuration and blast range. All very useful and simple. Key in your target and away you go, you cant go wrong, really.”

So Sarah duly followed the instructions programming the launcher. They were standing on Oldham Edge, an area near the town centre that was overgrown wasteland once full of mines and quarries. Now it was left to nature, except for a firing range our friends used when the need arose – like now. With a mischievous grin Sarah shouldered the launcher and fired, the back blast stunned everyone; white-hot flame shot ten yards as the rocket motor ignited. In a glare of flame the rocket flew on its way, going supersonic it was soon out of sight.

“What have you keyed in Sarah?” a concerned Lee asked.

“It’s an old set of buildings at Rhodes Bank in town as the target,” Sarah replied, adding, “in fact, they should be gone about now.”

Just then a flash and a distant blast filled the air, the medium range all use rocket launcher certainly worked. Sarah programmed the intelligent warhead to act as a hi-blast fragmentation device; two blocks of old Victorian buildings disappeared in flame and dust. Luckily no one was in them at the time, ransacking took place years ago. A tramp sheltering fifty yards away was rudely awakened from his moonshine-fuelled sleep, screaming that the world was collapsing. He was partly right, coughing as brick dust wafted up the empty streets.

Sarah coyly added, “Well lads, now I know what it feels like to have balls! No one will mess with me now in this town.”

John declined a go of Lee’s new dangerous toys; Sarah’s demo was more than enough to convince him that they worked. No one would be allowed access to these weapons except the trio of freedom fighters, who kept the deadly weapons in their lock up garage on the estate along with all their other deadly guns, ammo, grenades and other deadly toys. Enough firepower to stop an army and one of the keys to their power base, not to say that guns to deal with anything such as a skirmish were kept in the flat.

Attacks on people at night continued the body count steadily rising; many also froze to death in cold temperatures. On St. Mary’s estate at the top end of town, a large number of folk made their homes there, a sense of being together in a type of community that held everyone in one place. Every man and his dog knew what the other hand was doing, scratching its balls while finding a bone, not much happened without people knowing about it. They all knew Lee, John and Sarah; many traded acquiring weapons and ammo from Lee and other stuff from John. Several hundred lived on the old sprawling council estate in flats and houses that had little power, only the odd one had pre-war generators or homemade ones that ran on equally homemade fuel, similar to moonshine that was brewed on the site of the old power station. No power flowed now but moonshine was brewed and distilled in ex-council boilers and water tanks. A steady trade flourished in the area with local people, John got a dozen bottles a week for his two pals to keep away the cold. Empty bottles were always re-used since they were no longer produced, Ben Shaw pop bottles being the favourite.

Tonight on the freezing evening in the third week of January John gathered Lee and Sarah together, “Hey, lets call up to Gun Barrel and Red to have a piss up. You two aint got nowt planned have you? I aint seen them for a couple of weeks. We’ll take some good old ‘shine up.”

“Good idea, I’m fine about it,” from Sarah.

“Hell yes! I want to drink Gun Barrel under the table. The bet is still on with him and me from last Xmas. I’ll have it,” Lee added.

With that they got ready, put guns and ammo on, warm jumpers and coats and headed out to Gun Barrel’s and Red’s flat. Most importantly half a dozen bottles of moonshine accompanied them to the other side of the estate.

Gun Barrel came by his name during a recent dispute with a so-called neighbour over a homemade generator, the said item disappeared while Gun Barrel was in a pissed up stupor, well out of it. From running and supplying electric it went to silence and darkness, twelve hours later when a hung over Gun Barrel awoke he first noticed it was daylight and how silent it was. The generator was gone; he had a good idea what had happened. Days before Ivan enquired about trading the geny for vodka, lots of it but it simply wasn’t available. That should have been that but obviously with its theft guess who was number one suspect? Ivan. So away old Gun Barrel went, business in mind but not trading business.

Kicking in the old council PVC door in, he totally surprised the middle aged Russian refugee; things came to a head quickly. Gunny asked for it back in a pleasant voice.

“May I have my generator back please, Ivan?”

Regaining his composure Ivan snarled, “Fuck you, you fat lazy dog. Get out or I’ll do you, you prick!”

Gun Barrel replied, “That’s a no then? Okay have it you way, you Russian fuckin’ failure!”

As quickly as can be described he pulled a sawn off from inside his tatty coat and shot the old Russian in the throat – with both barrels. The birdshot really screwed up his neck, blood jetting everywhere, bits of flesh likewise, Gun Barrel was covered in the dead man’s blood. Ivan was dead before he hit the floor, a sad piece of human garbage that messed with the wrong man. So that’s how one Tim Brooks became as Gun Barrel, in the hot lawless summer of 2014, he lived in a flat of decent enough standards not far from John, Lee and Sarah. Most of the windows were boarded up; power came from the moonshine driven generator. Gun barrel had an old cabinet of several handguns and shotguns, Red owned the semi automatic stuff and both regularly traded with Lee for ammo and gear.

Red came by his name because of his hair that was always long and blowing about in the wind. He couldn’t be bothered tying it back he just didn’t care. Tattoos covered his arms from the early years of the new millennium when he was a biker/rocker, then the music wasn’t so good and bands came and went in the rock revival of 03-05. Bikes were mostly stolen Japanese ones driven illegally in mad chases with the police, often such chases ended with a young life being taken in a crash. Red’s tattoos are a little faded but he’s still proud of his misplaced youth, he has tribal designs on both shoulders and upper arms. On his left lower arm is a naked girl; he won’t say who it is. An English bulldog and a pair of electric guitars with the name “Red” underneath grace his lower right arm. Today he is in the business of rebuilding and modifying ancient wrecks of motorbikes to run on a moonshine derivative called “White Fire”, this is due to its explosive properties. He brews this in the old power station where the normal ‘shine is made. He’s in his element amongst the shiny pipes, one-litre bottles, five litre containers and his “baby”, a small still connected by pipes to the main system. This refined the moonshine brewed in the main system, a further second stage of distillation to produce almost pure alcohol. He regularly took samples in glass tubes, testing the purity on a litmus paper stolen from the trashed science lab at Counthill School. The paper showed the correct value for a second then dissolved in the pure alcohol. This would produce a smile on the Gun Barrel’s face, the master doing his art. Now his trike was nearly complete, a test drive would be needed. Who would do this? Himself as he had built it? Considering the volatile fuel with danger of explosion and death, he’d ask them to draw lots or who could drink a bottle of ‘shine first? No there was a better way, after completion they’d test right away, no sobering up. Everyone would have a drive, after himself of course, to get used to the wicked machine. Sarah, John and Lee had waited patiently for Red to build them a three-seat trike so that they can travel away from the area; they hadn’t travelled for ages it seemed.

The trio arrive and macho greetings are exchanged all round, Gun Barrel says in a rough voice: “I see that you still have the bird with balls with you!”

With that Sarah pulls her mini Colt out and fires two 6mm rounds into the ceiling over Gunny’s head, he ducks at plaster dust falls around him while a madly laughing Sarah puts her toy away.

“Nice to see you dickhead! Don’t lose your head, it’s bad for you,” Sarah laughs, still seeing the fun of it all.

Bottles of moonshine are opened, pint pots provided and the drinking starts in earnest, a bottle of ‘shine is next to everyone and more are on the small worn table, there for later for those not unconscious. Nothing can touch it. Sarah sits between John and Lee, facing Red and Gun Barrel. Heavy clothes and coats are thrown on the floor as the temperature soars and the liquor takes effect. The small generator provides light as it noisily runs on moonshine based fuel; the noise was tolerable and not too deafening. This was just like the old days, a group of close mates and a lot of booze. John is the first to finish his bottle; he sways back and forth well out of it, no doubt seeing six of everything through his blurred vision.

“Fuckin’ hell you bleedin’ alki. What are you like? You’ll end up pissin’ yourself. Don’t expect me to nursemaid you,” remarks a half pissed Red. With that John uses all of his strength and dodgy co-ordination to snatch Red’s half full bottle off him, Red susses out the situation as John misses the bottle and falls on top of Red. The bottle is okay – it’s in Red’s vice like grip with his thumb stuck in the top, not to spill any. The pair are intertwined like two dear lovers, conveniently John is on top, stinking of illegal booze. Red rolls to one side struggling to get the semi-conscious weight off him. “C’mon you comatose idiot, get the fuck off me before I shoot you. It’s not funny you lot of arse holes!”

Everyone laughs between gulps of drink, the intentions of the drunks memorable if not honourable. Red fills his glass again but John is unconscious at the side of him, out for the night. Lee finishes his last drops of moonshine from his glass, knocking his now empty bottle over as he tries to put his glass down in one go. Gun Barrel is about to open his second bottle, he catches Lee’s stare. “I remember last Xmas and the bet we had. It seems that we’re equal up to now; here, have some of mine. After all, we’re all best buddies. I have to go easy on my liver if I want to see another year out.” With that Gun Barrel fills Lee’s glass.

“I mean cheers old Gunny, I want to say that this is wicked stuff!!” – a drunken thanks from Lee who adds: “I can’t see fuckin’ straight, my vision is blurred as fuck.” He takes a swig and his face glows red with the alcohol as it enters his bloodstream.

Sarah, though smaller than the others, can still hold her liquor, she has a quarter of a bottle left but that will be her last since she knows when she’s had enough.

“Look at you drunken knobs. Do you think it’s big and ‘ard to have all that at once? You’ll be dead in the morning, stupid idiots,” she shouts.

“This is all good fun and I never had any shit like this before the bombs. Let’s drink to anarchy, war, moonshine and the black market. And new lives!” they’re the last words Red says before he slumps over sideways next to John.

With two in drunken comas, only three are left. The booze consumption lessons somewhat as people reach their limits, to these seasoned drinkers the downing of a single bottle of moonshine is manageable but that’s about it, much more can kill the biggest and strongest man; since the war deaths due to alcohol poisoning were in dozens each year.

Sarah, Lee and Gun Barrel had a drunken conversation about something that was rumoured to happen soon. “I have heard rumours of a person who appears in peoples dreams,” commented a lucid Gun Barrel, “it’s weird. Fuck I can’t remember much of what I was told, fuckin’ booze!”

“What’s this shit that you’re on about? You talk so much shit. That’s too much booze for you,” Lee remarked, not very focused.

Sarah thought and added, “No wait, Lee, I have heard rumours this week at the aid station. An old woman who was nearly dead coz of radiation went on about something. She said that she dreamed of a girl, a young and pretty one who comes from a place so far away. Strange thing is, this young girl is from no one knows where and she is a leader.”

“What, a military leader from Europe? No one from over there gives a shit about us, not for years. Where else can she be from? The fuckin’ Yanks don’t want to know either. What does she want? Lee managed to speak clearly and sensibly, considering what he had drank.

“I don’t think she’s military or any type of force like that. I don’t know much about her. It’s only a rumour that I heard from someone who is now dead. It could all be bullshit. But I have a feeling, that’s all. Something will happen.” Sarah seemed convinced about it all.

Gun Barrel added, “Whatever happens it aint worth shit now. I’m going to sleep.” He covered himself with a blanket and was soon snoring away. Lee took a piss and did likewise. It took Sarah sometime to fall asleep even though she was pissed out of her skull with the room spinning with the drink. On the outer edges of her mind something odd lurked, an image of something odd, mysterious and so very different. But in a way that wasn’t bad or harmful, quite the opposite in fact…

Chapter2 Journey afar

As January’s cold bitter days faded away February settled into its winter routine, people went on living and fighting. Sarah was involved in a skirmish with three Asian youths while on her way to the aid station; she was walking down empty dark deserted streets aware of every shadow. Movement caught her eye and she braced herself for danger but it was only a board flapping in the wind, she felt every nerve relax and tension leave her body. She continued on her way saying to herself, “It’s okay, no one would be out this early between day and night and the cold will keep him or her indoors till later, anyhow I have my gun.”

Ten minutes later it happened as she was nearly at the aid station, on the sight of the old 20^th century hospital. Three scruffy undernourished Asian youths all a little younger than Sarah stepped out of a dark alleyway, menace glinting in their eyes in the half-light of the coming dawn. Each held an iron bar in gloved hands. Sarah was momentarily stunned but that soon passed as they tried to surround her, she rapidly sidestepped and went for her gun. The tallest Asian went for her swinging his bar; by an error of misjudgement he missed by a fraction of an inch. Now Sarah was ready, she held her gun in her right hand and fired, shit! The shot went high. This didn’t stop the two other Asians from trying to rush her bars held at the ready, if she missed again she would be killed, no question about it for the only thing of value she had was her gun, ammo and winter coat. Sarah had six rounds left in her mag and spare ammo in her coat but she had more than enough now: she took aim and fired at the first dirty Paki, at the same time he raised his foot long bar to strike. Without waiting to see the result she switched targets and fired twice more, the short sharp replies echoing over the rooftops. The third Asian took to his heels dropping his iron bar behind a hedge; he would be quickly from view away from the site of the failed robbery. If he escaped he could ID Sarah and come back with more of his kind, this time to kill her. She had one chance, which she took without hesitation or undue emotion, for she was a warrior in a war now. Standing in a combat stance, legs slightly apart, she held her gun in both hands and centred it on his moving back, pulling the trigger once. At maximum range for her small pistol, her single shot hit the Paki dead centre in his back dropping him like a sack of spuds – dead. At Sarah’s feet the frosty ground was a miniature war zone, blood pooled from one dead and one dying man.

Sarah was close enough to smell unwashed sweaty bodies and piss and shit as the wounded Paki soiled himself. Was it in fear of dying?, Sarah thought. She knelt over the injured one inspecting her own work, if the shot would have been more central to his chest or followed by a second one, then he would have been as dead as his accomplice. Suddenly she felt a great sadness at taking a life but the law of the jungle ruled out here.

“Why have you done this? You have killed my brother; he has two young kids to feed. Fuck, I can’t feel my legs. What have you done to me?” the dying man cried his voice pain filled.

Sarah looked down at the blood seeping from the Asian’s chest, at the pool of piss and at his dead brother, then further along to the other dead man. She took a minute in answering, her voice filled with anger, “Have you thought that it could have been me lying there, dead? But it very nearly was. Anyhow you Asian cunt I showed you and your mates, us whites own this town. Do you hear me? You Paki fuckin’ cunt! I fought for this country in the civil war, I won’t ever let you or your kind ever beat me. I’ll kill you right now, Asian bastard!”

She was so angry at the violence that had recently surrounded her that she carried out her threat, raising her Colt straight between the Asian’s brown emotionless eyes. Bang! The empty shell case rattled on the paving stones; so much rubbish along with three nameless would be robbers. Now all dead.

Several people now cautiously approached the macabre scene, one was Leah from the hospital and they had heard the gunshots cut through the new day.

“Christ Sarah what happened? Are you okay? This is one hell of a mess. Did they take anything? We have to get you checked out at the aid station. C’mon it’s ok, I’ll look after you. We’ll have to get this mess sorted out too. You really are a soldier aren’t you?” Leah said in a concerned voice.

“I’m just shaken that’s all, it was such a close thing. They tried to kill me, I had no choice, it was them or me. I got them all. Yes I used my old skills; from that part of my past I don’t ever want to tell you about. Not ever…” Sarah was struck by the reality of it all; at how close she came to not being here. Yes, it had been close but Sarah’s close combat training had saved her but only just, it seemed her deadly violent past was always with her in one form or another. Sarah was checked out, she was okay and managed to do a few days work. Her attack was an example of the lawlessness on the streets of most towns today; those left standing after the nukes had fallen. She would love telling Lee and John about her incident, it was just like the old days and the war – was she mad for missing the action and the camaraderie?

John and Lee came up with a plan that appeared madness at first but after much careful consideration they told Sarah about it, to put it simply: through an act of deception or violence, hijack and steal an English army armoured car after disabling the crew. Then if the vehicle was useable, travel further a field and see what was happening, living in Oldham was like being in a vacuum, if you wanted answers that were reliable, then you had better find the answers that fitted your questions yourself. Whence the plan, the risks were high and speed combined with surprise would be essential to make it work.

Later at the flat they both told Sarah and waited for her reply, if she wasn’t in then the plan was off, all three go or not at all. Sarah finally answered, “Okay guys, I’m in with you on your mad plan. I think that it holds merit and can be pulled off by using the key elements of speed and surprise. I hope that you weren’t pissed when you thought this up, after my scare the other day with the skids I want some excitement. Lets do it!”

John embraced first Sarah and then Lee in anticipation, he became very happy saying, “Cheers girl, I had my doubts that you would say no, now I know that you’re the greatest girl in town. Aint that right Lee?”

“Too fuckin’ right John. Our Sarah is one in a million, she’s with us and that’s what matters. We’ll back you up anytime and anywhere Sarah, you know that. By the way well done with the Paki’s, here’s some ammo clips for your gun. They’re on the house.” Lee complimented Sarah and handed her four 6mm magazines for her Colt, the little weapon was with its weight in gold for close combat, she had proved that in startling clarity.

“These will be useful in any coming adventure, cheers. I think that we should take more weapons including several rocket launchers and some machine pistols, say one each. That sound okay guys? We’ll pick up what we need from the lock up later.”

John replied, “Yes we’ll take all we can carry, four should be enough with a dozen warheads. No, fuck it say two dozen in ammo boxes, a machine pistol each and our personal weapon, plus lots of ammo. It will be a bitch to carry but too much is better than too little. I’ll sort the machine pistols out. Lee can you sort the ammo out please?”

“I’ll get enough magazines and rounds. A hundred each should be enough. I’ll chase up more pistol ammo for John and me. You okay about pistol ammo?” Lee asked.

“Yes I’m ok. Fine with what I’ve got. Lets get it sorted.”

“I’ll go over to Red and Gun Barrel’s to borrow some Uzi’s off Red. He should be okay with it, you two can go to the lock up and get what we need in terms of fire power.” With that John went on his way.

Two hours later everyone with everything was ready. They all checked out weapons, ammo, rocket launchers and warheads, then if once wasn’t enough they did it again. As nighttime settled onto St. Mary’s estate Sarah, Lee and John dressed themselves for battle. Each wore black leather combat pants, which John had traded with Arnie, t-shirts, thick jumpers, body armour and winter coats, ammunition were carried in any suitable secure pockets. Each had enough to carry – pistol, ammo, machine pistol, rocket launcher with boxes of warheads. The medium range, all use rocket launcher with its programmable warhead and multirole capability was sent from God, for only three people they carried massive firepower if it came to a fight. But this mission called for stealth, not guns blazing like some old western film from fifty years ago.

John doubled up and carried two rocket launchers slung over his shoulders along with his Uzi, Lee and Sarah carried a launcher each plus ammo boxes with six warheads in, Uzi’s and other gear. Sarah had told Leah previously that she would be away from her duties for sometime; Leah replied she would get someone to cover no problem. Setting out into the cold night Lee commented, “It looks like we’re the extras in an ancient B movie! We sure look odd!”

“All of this gear can and will be used if necessary Lee, I wouldn’t go anywhere without a gun at night in Oldham or anywhere else come to mention it,” said with conviction in her voice remembering how fate smiled when she was attacked by Asians.

“And so went the dogs of war,” from John.

They made their way down back alleys to keep away from the main roads; Lee led with Sarah and John covering from the rear with Uzi’s at the ready. All three watched for moving shadows, movement at dark windows or for a burst of enemy tracer fire. Nothing. Silently over frozen ground, ice crystals like tiny diamonds on black velvet, they made their way to battle. Leaving the alleyways, they headed to Broadway near Royton to lie in wait for the armoured car; these weren’t meant to be random patrols but most used the old Broadway road, as it was easy to speed along at 50mph to Manchester, to the next patrol area. An army base was not too far from the city which was as troubled with murder and crimes like Oldham, except on a massive scale. The English army never stayed patrolling in one place long, they never had enough troops to overwhelm people with guns. The armoured cars used liquid gas as a power source since the rarity of petrol and diesel, the army had its own gas refinery plant to provide fuel for its vehicles. Larger tanks were used to guard what could be classed as strategic installations and those where few and far between, like weapons dumps and the refinery. Armoured Personnel Carriers and armoured cars provided much more mobility in the small English army of twenty thousand or so men. For the few vehicles not yet running on gas, a small supply of petrol was stored in a hardened tank facility not far from Broadway. Nothing but the most powerful explosive charge would damage the tank, it was too well protected with three feet of concrete and six inches of steel, which was the reason it wasn’t physically guarded. Later its toughness would be tested.

They reached Broadway without incident. Again checking that the area was clear they took up position and waited, Sarah on one side of the road behind a concrete bollard, Lee and John did likewise further down, on the other side. This ensured that no one would be hit by their mates’ crossfire, plus gave a deadly field of fire. Three hours later the low hum of an engine came through the night, out of the cold night air at speed came an armoured car, its dark grey camouflage making it barely visible. As it slowed slightly at the junction Sarah fired her all use rocket launcher, she programmed the smart warhead to miss the vehicle by fifty yards to explode in front of it as it drove forward, to stun the crew. In a whoosh of rocket flame lighting up the entire scene, the rocket propelled warhead shot on its way, in a cacophony of noise and violence it hit the tarmac in a searing blast of yellow flame. Bits of tarmac, rubble and concrete flew in all directions, closely followed by shrapnel singing through the air. The armoured car skidded into the crater as bits of falling debris rattled and banged onto the armour and the ground, luckily the vehicle didn’t roll over writing it off. If the warhead exploded any closer and had not dug into the road surface sending the blast up and down, the car would be fucked with a cooked crew. Deafening silence was now destroyed by John and Lee running from their positions firing off their Uzi’s from the hip on full auto, muzzle flashes framed each figure like a photo flash gone mad. Nine milli rounds sparked and bounced off the armoured hull, anyone left alive would be keeping their heads down and hatches shut. Lee reached the askew vehicle and climbed onto the commanders position on the turret top, he threw the hatch open after turning the emergency access handle, grunting with exertion at the heavy hatch. The thick cunts hadn’t disabled the system from the inside. It didn’t need blasting open. A shocked face came into view, frightened wide eyes staring up from the command position, framed by a bloody head wound. Lee stared in horror at the raised pistol in the officer’s hand; Lee was just about to say, “Get out!” when the gun went off. A loud bang and the round caught Lee in the chest, a scream of pain came out of his clenched jaws as he fell backwards onto the debris filled road, then rolled slowly into the crater.

“You fuckin’ cunt, I’ll kill you! English army scum!” an outraged John shouted.

“Lee are you okay?” from a concerned Sarah. John fired his last of his mag at the armoured car, hid by the side and reloaded, jumped up onto the front wing, onto the turret and aimed gun into the open hatch, firing the full clip into the enclosed space. His rounds ricocheted down into open compartment, hit in the face by the spinning bullets the desperately brave officer was killed outright after trying to save himself. For his folly he paid the ultimate price, death. John dragged the bloody corpse out of the car and threw him down next to Lee, as Sarah rushed over to check him out.

“That was close. Fuck me, how lucky you are, any higher and you’d be fuckin’ dead! Your bulletproof vest Lee stopped the round. Good job you had it on. Other than the wind knocked out of you, you’ll be fine. There’ll be some bad bruising in a few hours but count yourself lucky!” she said.

Lee managed to stand and was unsure of himself; he slowly became aware of what happened. “I thought that was it then, I was so sure that I’d get him first but he got me instead. Aaah, it fuckin’ hurts like a cunt. It aches like fuck and hurts at the same time. At least he’s dead now but he could have told us some useful info. Fuck it!”

John answered, “I had no choice, he would have been more dangerous and used the cars guns on us. I’ll check to see if anyone else is alive, if there is they wont catch me out, no bloody way!”

He reached into his inside pocket and pulled a single stun grenade out, pulled the pin, counted to three and tossed the grenade into the armoured car. Nothing happened but a clank as it bounced around, then Flash! Bang! Smoke wafted up and out of the hatch. As it cleared John placed his Uzi next to a large piece of tarmac and withdrew his pistol, a 9mm Walther, flicked off the safety catch and chambered a round. When it was clear John climbed up onto the wing in an athletic movement, onto the sloping front, into the hatch to see who had survived. For a couple of minutes he was inside the tilted vehicle, till he opened the side door with a clang that had Sarah aiming her Uzi at it, just for anything out of the ordinary. Everything was okay it was John. She lowered her gun.

“The driver is dead. His neck is broken, nothing but silence from him. The inside seems okay Sarah. Can you please help me move his body; he’s wedged over the controls. We can get going then,” John spoke loudly, “How’s Lee? Is he okay?”

“Yes I’ll help you move the body. Lee’s okay, he’ll have some great bruises in a bit!” she replied. They both moved the dead body together with his dead comrade, dragging them over to a storm drain by the side of the road, out of sight except in a proper search. They frisked the bodies for useful items, found some documents that contained maps and text, took spare ammo, a pistol and a small knife. With the crater and spent shell cases it was obvious that something had gone down. But what? Lee was okay but sore. Sarah took up the driving position after they had loaded their gear into the vehicle by the side door. Lee stayed in the hull behind her John manned the command position, keeping his rocket launchers at the ready, it outranged the armoured cars cannon by a mile, such was modern technology. Even so the thirty millimetre cannon could shoot out to two miles with a multi use night sight, similar to the one on the rocket launcher but much larger. Yes they had been lucky.

Sarah spoke in a matter of fact voice: “Cycle the gas system, pressure up, start. Here we go. Automatic gear forward. Three speeds. Power steering on all four wheels. We have over three quarters of a tank of gas. Lets do it.”

She expertly reversed out of the crater without wheel spinning, engaging forward gear like a seasoned driver, “I don’t believe it! We did it, fuckin’ ace. Where shall we go? We have a range of a hundred and fifty miles, maybe more. And if we can find more liquefied gas…” she said.

“What about that armoured petrol tank at the end of Broadway down that rough road. I don’t know what road it is but you must know where I mean Sarah?” Lee asked painfully.

“This thing will only run on liquefied gas unless it has an engine and tank modification. So at the mo it won’t run petrol. Good idea though Lee,” Sarah answered him.

“Oh, right. Hey… lets blow the fuckin’ thing up! It can be payback for that twat winging me. What do you reckon?” Lee went on. John overheard them and he decided the issue, “Yes, we’ll blow it to fuckin’ pieces! I know where the hardened tank is, I’ll direct you Sarah. It’s only ten minutes away.”

So down Broadway and along a rough road that led to an old industrial estate and the target if you didn’t know what to look for then you’d easily miss it, the trio of fighters knew most of the secrets of the area though so now it was target practice. John eyed the squat tank up. It was half buried in a bed of thick concrete. He would take the first shot at it, with the cannon on single shot to see what effect it had, then Lee to take it to full auto, Sarah the first rocket round…

John readied himself behind the gun, adjusted the seat for his height, flipped the infrared sight on and fine-tuned the sight to the target, selected Armour Piercing ammo. And fired one round in a loud Bang! That had the cannon barrel pumping inwards like a mans cock with the recoil. On target the round hit the side of the tank and dug into the concrete in a small cloud of dust and concrete chippings. Nothing – it failed to penetrate three feet of concrete.

Lee was next. He looked at the cannon controls, John showed him how to work the sight and away he went, selecting High Explosive shells on full auto. He held the trigger and aimed, firing after long moments staring through the sight. His quick pull on the trigger sent fifteen rounds at a mile a second forward to explode on target, digging up more concrete in wicked explosions of explosive gasses as the small amount of HE in the shells went off. Anyone near would have serious shrapnel wounds, blast injuries or be blown to pieces if hit. The dust cleared, the tank was intact.

Sarah took up position with the rocket launcher, opening the top hatch to aim it. She looked down at John. “I’ve shot one before. Why don’t you do it?”

He didn’t need asking twice, “Okay, I’d love to. Pass me the weapon.” She did so.

John eyed up the squat shape that misled the eye on its size. From thirty yards away he would take his shot, he took up position, programmed the launcher for depth penetration and aimed carefully. With a press on the trigger the warhead shot forth, illuminating the desolate scene with flame, impact was instantaneous, nothing happening at first but fragments of concrete kicking up. Then Sarah and Lee, who saw the shot from the observation window, cowered in the glare of a mini volcano. John in the turret ducked as the blast wave from the penetrating rocket touched off fifty tons of stored petrol, concrete flew in all directions and a huge stream of petrol fanned across the ground in all directions. Including towards them.

“Sarah get us the fuck outta here, quick or we’ll be burned alive! I don’t wanna die just yet!” John shouted in awe at the scene that he created.

Sarah started the engine wheel spinning in reverse out of the way of flowing, burning gasoline. “I’m on it John, don’t panic, I’m on it,” she replied, the panic clear in her voice.

“What a bonfire fuckin’ ace!” from Lee.

They quickly left the destruction and flames heading back the way they came, even ten minutes and several miles later the burning tank was clearly visible. They had created a small hell and deprived the English army from the main local petrol store for its petrol vehicles. This wouldn’t be the last of this.

“So where shall we head for then guys?” Sarah asked, her voice now calm.

“Leeds. I heard it took a French nuke. I want to see what it’s like,” Lee decided for them all.

“Okay I’ll take you up there. We have radiation meters to see how hot it gets. You fine with Leeds John?” she said. John nodded to himself and shouted down to Sarah from the turret, “Yes, okay with that.”

Within seconds they were cruising along at forty miles an hour, away from Oldham for the first time in years, since the war for all of them, to a nuked city. A sight none of them had ever seen first hand. Up over the moor roads along old freight routes through the dying night to a place of unknowns. Travel time would be a couple of hours and darkness was nearly gone, a new dawn slowly coming through in more ways than one. At least pursuit would be unlikely, who was around to see them? Absolutely no one, who could guess that Leeds was their destination? Again no one. John kept a close watch on the thermal sight on the cannon for any sign of danger, Sarah had a similar driving aid to see at night, in bad weather and any other time when visibility was bad, so now she could drive without headlights. With a range of a couple of miles, they were okay to make good speed. They climbed over a steep brow of a hill and Sarah floored the armour car to reach top speed on a good condition road considering no maintenance had been done on it for years. For miles they drove not meeting another vehicle but seeing several burnt out or abandoned cars at the side of the road.

On two occasions the strange sight of groups of half a dozen people watching the speeding armoured car made shivers run up Sarah’s back. “John do you see those people just standing there? How spooky for them to be up here. Do they live here, in the middle of nowhere?”

“I don’t know but yes they’re weird. Best leave ‘em alone. We don’t want any trouble when we can help it,” John replied. All of the people they saw were unarmed and shabbily dressed in rags it seemed, even the children with the group. These weird people must have been nomadic in their lifestyle John thought, Lee wasn’t bothered one way or another, he rested behind Sarah’s driving position.

Sarah spoke of a time long ago. “I was only a kid, maybe 10 or 11 when my dad drove me and mum up here in the summer. The sun was so bright and we could see for miles and miles, times like that were some of the best of my life. And coming home we could see distant towns on the horizon, all lit up orange in the night…”

Her friends remained silent, Lee dozed in and out of sleep and John kept up his one-man vigil. He thought, “Its no wonder Europe or America can’t be bothered with us, there aint nowt left now.”

That wasn’t exactly true; a group of war veterans with trouble on their minds saw the car coming in the dusk, a dark shape hugging the winding road. As one they opened fire with machine pistols and tracer fire from several light machine guns, the first rounds went a dozen feet behind but the searing tracer rounds soon found the armoured car, striking it with loud bangs. John ducked as half a dozen rounds whined off the turrets armoured side in a shower of sparks. If the fire had come from above, rather from the sides, he would have been dead now. Sarah skidded and nearly went off the road in surprise, she soon corrected, her quick reactions saved her and the others. John brought the turret around and fine tuned his sight and fired at the group of glowing dots, which even now fired back wildly as their target escaped the range increased. The thirty-milli cannon easily handled it, in three quick bursts that made the vehicle vibrate he laid fifty high explosive shells in their direction. The guns two-mile range allowed him to wipe them out, the buzz saw sound really turned him on and he smiled as the fat shells did their work. He never even considered the war veterans that now became blasted pieces of flesh at the side of the road; today morality wasn’t on his mind…

Lee was awake now and he came out with praise for Sarah’s driving, “We were lucky that you’re such a good driver, we could have been in a ditch or in pieces. Or worse.”

“Cheers Lee but it did shit me up, I reacted automatically. This four wheel drive steering helped so much. Anyhow that little encounter shows that we have to be careful!” Sarah continued, “Who were they John?”

“It seems that they were a group of veterans or well armed bandits. They had military arms and knew how to use them. Thank fuck they had no heavy weapons.”

Any decent size shell would have cut right through the steel and Kevlar armour, that’s forsaking armour for speed and agility.

They drove on for another hour as daylight came and lit up empty barren moorland and the moor road, winding and twisting over various elevations and scenery, always desolate. Suddenly up ahead a vehicle came into view, Sarah saw it on her driving scope and shouted, just as John noticed it too. An old Merc Sprinter Halfback with 03 plates came into view, it had no windows but was armed to the teeth with gun positions in the front passenger window, in the cargo compartment windows, a roof mounted ring with a huge gun on full 360 degree traverse and more dangerously, ten armed men in the back. These looked hard and menacing, this was real trouble. John tracked them on IR a mile out, he put HE in the gun just to be ready. Just in time! The Halfback fired the roof mounted fifty-calibre Browning heavy machine gun they had been seen! The big tracer rounds fell five hundred yards short but the distance narrowed quickly. John fired one explosive shell from 900 yards, it exploded in a small cloud of dust and fragments in front of the other vehicle, which stopped. Sarah slowed and snailed along at 10mph, John covered the Half with the turret cannon. As they came to 200yds on the single track road, the enemy opened fire again – 50cal, two window mounted guns on the left side and most of the men in back with machine guns, machine pistols and some Aks. Tracers and rounds zipped everywhere, kicking up tarmac, dust and smoke, some zinged and pinged off the armour safely. John held back with the cannon on the soft target, he lined up with the thirty calibre MG next to the cannon, fired sending fifty bullets hitting the old Merc nose to tail. Enemy fire lessened but didn’t stop. Another long burst and it did, holes, flat tyres, leaking fuel, pooling blood, crying wounded, smoking guns. Defeat. 30mm time. Three High Explosive rounds in the fuel tank a huge explosion of red and boiling black smoke signalled the end of battle, burning flesh sweetly smelling wafted over. Old memories came back, not welcome, all unwanted. This had been no contest really, everyone thought, why didn’t they let us past, why open fire with just small arms at an armoured car? They stopped at the burning Mercedes and Lee and Sarah slowly got out to check it out, John stayed by the guns just to be safe. Everyone was dead, shot or burnt to death. They collected some spare ammo blown clear by the blast, examined the clothes of the dead, yes, a group of vets from the Scottish campaign. Not allied to anyone but themselves, survival of the fittest as was always the case. Nothing more was worth taking. They boarded the armoured car and set off down the road, this time without further attack for the next few miles along the narrow road.

Suddenly down below the radiation meter moved from normal into the blue, then edged to red and stayed there. Sarah spoke up, “John seal her up and turn on the internal oxygen supply. We’re starting to get hot, Leeds must be coming up and we’re entering the old fallout area. Best to be safe rather than sorry. Our fuel is fine. Keep on the sight and be ready for anything. Cheers.”

He did as told, lowered the Commanders seat to the internal position, slammed the armoured hatch shut, locked the internal emergency handle and primed the Oxygen system. This was a simple system where the air supply was continuously filtered to make it breathable filtered with air scrubbers, as a back up two Oxygen cylinders provided emergency air for up to six hours. Now it was they versus the outside radioactive world.

Sarah slowed to 20mph as a small village came up. Light blast damage had removed slates, smashed windows and cracked walls, now they were on the edge of the blast zone from a nuclear bomb, which over two years ago descended onto Leeds and obliterated it. The warhead was a one-megaton Aerospatiale cruise missile with the power of a million tons of normal explosive, awesome and totally destructive. Over half a million died on the day and a similar number over the next few months and years this death was still ongoing. Now much of the radiation was gone but danger levels were still high enough to be harmful. Who knew if the Mirage 2000 N nuclear strike fighter that launched the missile had survived? No one cared now. His base along with most of the French Republic ceased to exist, English Trident missile nuclear counter strike…

The village passed, empty and desolate. Sarah increased speed, no one said a word and their thoughts were on lost friends and loved ones. Now the road showed signs of blast and heat damage, like the tarmac had been heated, ran and set again in a short rapid time of energy release. Sarah drove for another ten minutes when the road condition worsened; at times she had to go off road to traverse the damage, as the going took longer and radiation meters stayed red.

A small half collapsed chapel was on the left by a melted patch of road, a pretty sight before the war but now a part of hell. Then the unexpected happened, again! From the abandoned church the leader of a group emerged, to stand in the road, defiant, unmoving, almost in charge. His red face smiled as he saw the armoured car come into view, he whistled and six of his brethren waited behind silent dark walls, hiding in the shadows, almost like they didn’t like the morning light. Lee was in the turret, having exchanged positions with John, on the IR sight keeping an eye out using the optical viewing setting on x10 magnification, like a large set of binoculars. Sarah’s IR had greater range but for now she drove on the day setting, she saw the single figure in the road.

“Hey Lee check that figure out 500yards ahead, in the middle of the road. See him?”

He zoomed in on the black dressed figure that swam into focus on x20 magnification, an ugly red face with a wicked grimace filled Lee’s vision, he adjusted his vision to get a better look.

“Yes, I’ve got him Sarah, he’s all in black, got an ugly deformed face. Maybe radiation poisoning? Can’t tell if he’s armed. He may have a weapon under his long black coat,” Lee commented acidly.

John readied his Uzi and patted his rocket launchers he was ready. Sarah told Lee to cover the man on his guns, he already had for after their brush with the war vets, no chances would be taken, not at all. Sarah pulled up thirty yards before the man, she turned on the loud speaker to speak in a no shit voice: “Hey numb nuts, are you ill? What the fuck are you doing? Move it or we’ll open fire!”

The man slowly walked forward covered by the 30-calibre machine gun. He spoke in an emotionless voice, “No one passes here. Turn around and return the way you came. You and your kind are not welcome. This is our land given to us by Satan Almighty Dark Lord of Death, Worshipper of the Nuclear Mushroom Cloud.”

“Well you fuckin’ ugly cunt you’re going to move, be run down or shot. Your choice!” He nodded and his six men emerged from the ruins, only then did Sarah and Lee see the symbols the group wore around their necks – upside down crosses and inverted pentagrams. Satanists! Lee fired warning shots over the Leaders head, he ducked and joined his men in trying to encircle the armoured car and the six each carried grenades and pistols. Trouble! Sarah screamed, “Lee pop some smoke! Now, do it now!”

“I’m on it!”

Sarah, followed by Lee one second later popped smoke grenades from the forward hull and turret sides. Thick black smoke coiled up, around and over the armoured vehicle hiding it from view from the group, which was in the smoke too.

“I’ll get you, you cunts!” Lee shouted in anger, firing blind with his machine gun in quick five round bursts. Sarah gunned the engine and floored the accelerator to get them out of danger, two men leaped out of the way emerging through the smoke coughing and swearing. One was the leader who reached into his leather jacket, to get a large riot shot gun. He let off one round at the car, hitting it through the smoke with a loud clang!, it didn’t have enough energy to penetrate. The smoke drifted and the car emerged from it, Lee still firing blind to keep the enemy’s heads down, two grenades exploded yards away adding to the din and confusion. Pistol shots fired, equally ineffectively. What was effective was Lee traversing the turret, switching to infrared and firing at the glowing dots of the men through the smoke and at the chapel. Machine gun fire killed two men, wounded a third, 30mm shells exploded and butchered the leader and wounded a fifth man. Part of the front ruined wall collapsed in a cloud of brick dust as shells hit it. Bumping over uneven road Sarah sped them away from danger to the fear of what was up ahead – the outskirts of Leeds now came into view, rapidly as the car speeded on.

“Sarah slow down, you’ll fuck up the suspension or crash. We’re out of that situation now. Slow down, the outskirts are here,” Lee said.

“I know, I know. I can see the outskirts. I’m slowing now.”

“Good tactical sense.” Lee summed up.

“Yea… fuck, look at all of that. Look at the state of it all, what a mess! There’s not a roof intact or building upright. I can’t believe it! All of those people killed, it’s a scene from hell. No wonder those Satanists were like that.”

“I’m stopping now by the side of the road. John come to my position and see this, you have to see this.” John did so and he gasped and remained silent. Outside the scene revealed a nightmare of massive proportions, nearby buildings had smashed walls, caved in roofs, a main road off to the right was completely blocked by debris. The road in front was half blocked by the remains of council homes that once lined it, further down three story flats resembled nothing more than single story piles of rubble. Had there been people inside when the bomb went off? Everyone thought the same thought, yes.

Lee came forward and had a look through Sarah’s solid glass viewing slit, here his view was limited so he asked if he could look through her driving sight, it had a wider field of view than his own. She didn’t refuse. It was set on infra red, night time setting, Lee took a few seconds to fiddle with the controls to swap it to daylight function wondering why she had drove with it on the night setting when it was now daylight. She must have recently changed it over. This in itself was no problem but Lee thought a bit odd, maybe Sarah didn’t want to witness the destruction directly? Not even John had said anything. Was seeing it through the electronic world of infrared better, less real? He looked at the world of smashed buildings and such like, at what was once one of England’s top cities. Adjusting the magnification Lee slowly scanned back and forth, he couldn’t believe it either. “I know what these bombs can do but seeing it is another matter entirely. It’s on such a massive scale. Total devastation, it makes me feel so small like I’m nothing. I’m so glad that Oldham didn’t get it, nothing is in one piece, look at those council flats, they’re on their side like a house of cards.”

John moved up to the turret and he used the enclosed weapon sight on the day setting. He again saw the same amount of ruins and wrecked buildings; he slowly traversed the turret viewing more of the same scene. All he said was, “It makes me sick to be fuckin’ human!”

The sight of a nuked city would be with each of them for the rest of their lives. Sarah drove slowly on carefully negotiating rubble, in reality their lives depended on her skill, one mistake could cost them dear. Remains of tower blocks, homes and god knows what filled the road, Ground Zero was a couple of miles away and that was too hot for anything alive to survive for more than minutes. She drove around what she could and on an old bit of open land, an old park? Who knows? Some buildings of concrete looked like half broken teeth, modern glass and steel structures became a tangled web of girders and metal, brick places just shattered to rubble, whence the blocking of most roads.

Suddenly out of a leaning slab of concrete movement caught john’s eye, “Sarah stop! Stop! Look over there. By that leaning slab, it looks like an old woman. Is she dead? No, wait, she just moved! How the fuck can she live here!” he shouted.

“I see her! I’ll pull over carefully here. Be ready in case of danger with the gun John, we’ve had enough of that till now. Here goes,” Sarah replied in a cagey voice.

“She must be heavily contaminated with radiation,” Lee exclaimed.

“Yes, I bet. No one else’s about, this is crazy!” John said.

“Well, that doesn’t stop her being there guys does it?” from Sarah.

She pulled the car skilfully over as close as she could by using four wheel steering. The old woman, in rags of black and grey just stood there on her own in a contaminated city, she was waiting for them it seemed. Her age could be anything over fifty. With total disregard for his own safety or his friends John opened the armoured hatch above his head, he carefully looked at the bundle of rags.

“I have been waiting for you all to come here. It is said that a wise one is coming, soon now. She is Juniper’s Daughter. I have to tell you about her before I die,” the woman croaked.

In the hull of the armoured car alarms started to sound, a red warning light flashed angrily and the radiation meter plunged into purple – very dangerous and life threatening if prolonged exposure ensured. Black was the next level. Lee screamed at John, “John, John what the fuck are you doing!? Shut the hatch, you’ve breached the hull. For Christ sake John listen to me!”

Sarah crazily shouted over the ticking over engine, itself drowned out by the alarm, “Are you trying to infect us all you dick head? Shut the hatch and get the fuck in here, now you idiot!” She left the driving position, climbed past Lee to crawl into the turret, where she was confronted by John’s legs, she hit him behind the left knee as hard as she could. He winced in pain and came down to Sarah’s eye level, he said nothing but he did reach up to close the heavy hatch. The alarm became silent though even now the vehicles simple computer was working out exposure levels, numbers flickered on a small computer screen by Sarah’s position…

“I’m sorry Sarah, I didn’t think, I just acted. It’s like I had to do it, the old woman said that she would tell us about some woman or other and that she’s been waiting for us. I don’t know what she’s on about. She said Juniper’s Daughter,” John explained which he definitely needed to do. He looked directly into Sarah’s eyes her anger subsided she was totally shocked by what John had said, memories of the dying old woman at the aid station, similar to this one, came back to her. In a rush her dying words filled Sarah’s head sending her mind into freefall, she was numb.

John continued: “She said that she had to tell us Sarah, it’s important. Are you okay? You look freaked out. I’m sorry about the hatch.”

Sarah hesitantly spoke to John, “The dying woman at the hospital said a young girl was coming, that she is a leader. It must be true. I would never have believed it, it couldn’t be a coincidence can it? Surely not? Juniper’s Daughter. Is that who she is, the young woman’s name?”

“Yes” mouthed John, who continued to look at Sarah. Lee moved up to her in the cramped space, he just stared at the spaced out duo and finally said, “I wonder what will happen next, this is not normal, talk of someone just arriving like that. Sarah speak to the old woman or something. This whole thing is fucking nuts.”

Sarah moved John aside and took up his turret seat; she looked out of the cannon’s viewing/aiming device at where the woman had last been seen. She was shocked at what she saw, the old woman had collapsed onto the debris and dust filled ground.

“She’s on the floor, shit we have to help her. Looks like she collapsed,” Sarah urgently commented, “we have to get her in here, it’s safer than out there. C’mon open the side door, quick as we can!” With surprising agility Sarah left the turret and arrived at the car’s side door before the two guys did, they were close behind.

“What about another dose of radiation? We’ve taken one hit already,” Lee snapped his eyes showing anger.

“It’s what we have to do. We act now, right now. She maybe already dead. You all want answers now is the time. You both have to help me, right now!” Sarah shouted her brown eyes tear filled; her hands sought the inner opening handle on the door. Lee placed his hands next to Sarah’s and he looked into those sad eyes and time stood still, thoughts of his lost sister Debbie assaulted him. Sarah knew this and nodded silently. Together with considerable effort they opened the Kevlar steel armoured door outwards, almost immediately alarms sounded but John silenced them.

“John stay here, I’ll move her with Lee.”

Sarah and Lee climbed out to stand amongst the nuclear ashes of a once great city; they didn’t look at the destruction but got on with the job, as unseen charged particles bombarded their exposed bodies. Carefully lifting the slight bundle of rags, placing her behind the driver’s seat where Lee had been, now he noticed at how his chest ached from the officer’s bullet, seemingly from years before. He loosened his body armour and rubbed the painful bruising as Sarah knelt over the old woman, who with startling suddenness opened her eyes. John glanced at her at he passed her to shut the hatch. With a claw like hand she grabbed Sarah’s hands and quietly spoke in a voice with death hovering over it, “I don’t have much time, I’m dying and I feel pain now. I have waited many months now for you young innocents to come here. Tell me, did you know about her arrival, Juniper’s Daughter? She will soon be amongst us. She has special powers; she is a teacher, a healer, a spiritual guide. She is our last chance, before we all perish. She is here to stop that and to show us the way from evil.”

Sarah nodded her eyes clouding over with tears that streamed down her cheeks, giving her pretty face a tragic look. Emotions she forgot she had filled her entire being – joy, love, pain, loss, hope, sadness and above all, a sense of humanity.

“I know, I believe now what you say is true.”

Silently the old woman’s stared into space and her grip on Sarah’s young hands lessened, she was gone from this horrible world to a better place full of unconditional love and forgiveness. The guys just stared into space, not able to understand their role in this or the reasons why, actors in a scene beyond their control in a script out of madness. In a calmness that bordered on the weird the three freedom fighters drove back out of Leeds, took a small side road to another abandoned village where they buried the unknown unnamed woman. For the first time since the civil war and nuclear exchange all three prayed to an uncaring God, asking for hope and forgiveness and for a lost soul to be taken into heaven. No epitaph was given, none was asked, no mere words would ever be enough for what had just happened – a reason now to exist filled John, Lee and Sarah with something more than survival. They had to get back to Oldham to tell everyone, to be ready for this new visitor from place unknown who would do a role unknown, it had to be better than this right?

One last challenge remained on the winding moor road past the old battle scenes of the outgoing journey; an ambush was in place with more than just machine guns. The rocket-propelled grenade hit the armoured car on the turret side, exploding in a shower of sparks and flame and fragments. An expanding jet of gas penetrated the steel outer hull, burnt through the Kevlar inner armour and sprayed Lee with red-hot shrapnel wounding him in the upper right arm, right leg and cheek. He screamed like a wounded lion, attempting to slew the turret over despite his wounds and damage to the systems. The turret moved and jammed facing sideways, away from the hidden enemies ambush position, even so he fired both guns on full auto before passing out. His shells scythed through the air hitting nothing but trees and hillside, they never saw their attackers and only one round was fired in revenge for earlier defeats, Sarah kept driving her skill getting them away from the enemy, be it Satanists or war vets. She pulled over a mile and a half away, she quickly checked Lee out, applied a bandage to his arm, a tourniquet to his leg and a dressing to his check and gave him the okay, a shot of rare morphine would dull his pain. John readied his two rocket launchers, programming the display for long-range fragmentation to fire back at the position of their ambushers. This was like an old artillery bombardment on a grid square map reference, an area target with no forward observer calling down the fire. Sarah joined John holding a launcher pointing it up to the heavens, both firing together into the afternoon sky, whooshing rocket fire on a fleeing enemy. They fired every single round emptying the ammo boxes and used Lee’s launcher and supply of rockets, they’d never know if they killed their enemy but they certainly would have scared them. No one intended going back to check, not with a wounded man and a damaged armoured car that couldn’t fight back. The trip back was uneventful after that but on John’s and Sarah’s minds something stayed there, actions like this were meant to stop. Juniper’s Daughter would see to that, right?

Chapter3 Party at the end of the world

Only a fool thought nothing would happen after the armoured car was hijacked and fuel dump destroyed, English army high command planned and prepared to attack, to root out the freedom fighters, illegal weapons and black market trade in guns and booze. With the large town of Oldham being in the hands of the freedom fighters, just one example of lawlessness and the rule of the gun, any attack here would be a blue print to use elsewhere in England. A military state was in the making but with not enough men to physically do this and the questionable loyalty of men/women press ganged into the army was a big no-no, only one solution was left. To simply kill all of the known freedom fighters, war vet, anyone with weapons/weapons training and anyone else that took their fancy. A new genocide in the planning…

Three of the freedom fighters relaxed after their near death experience on the way to Leeds, Lee’s wounds slowly healed under Sarah’s supervision at the aid station. Leah raised an eyebrow at his admission there but under their verbal agreement, nothing was said and he was given the best care. Sarah did confide in Leah on the old woman but not where or how they had met her, the story of Juniper’s Daughter needed to be told and Leah was the perfect confidante. She asked questions, Sarah gave her the answers she could and together both tried to piece together what they knew and what may or may not happen. This was an exercise in futility so they left it at this: sometime in the future something would happen with the appearance of someone not from around here, a person to help and heal and not kill or wage war. A way to a new future maybe presented, if this helped end the killing and suffering that had to be positive, a step forwards to embrace the future, a journey of the unknown. Vague as this was, it gave a positive feeling in these bleak times.

Life went on day by day, Lee planned more arms shipments including the sale/trade of the armoured car to the Rochdale war vets and with the recent combat use it was prime to trade with for whatever Lee wanted. John arranged repairs on the damaged vehicle with Red and Gun Barrel using stolen, old and home made equipment to repair the rocket grenade damage. New hydraulic lines needed to be made, damaged ones patched or replaced, the hole made by the shape charged warhead had to be welded with good strength metal as soundly as possible, as Kevlar armour wasn’t available, more metal and fibre glass was installed where the internal damage was. Then re-painting the whole vehicle including repaired areas, any military insignia/markings and better camouflage to improve visual stealth. If it couldn’t be seen, it couldn’t be targeted, yet no amount of paint would ever hide the fact that it was a stolen English army armoured car. Repairs took two weeks; Lee improved drastically in this time. He liased with John on the repairs and on the trade of the vehicle with the vets in Rochdale, they would provide support if the English army attacked and vice versa, armed people in Oldham would do the same if Rochdale was attacked. Everyone lived with this and weapons and plans were made in case the army came and tried to take it back, punish the town or people for the death of two soldiers or any other reason. Guns, ammo, grenades and rocket-propelled stuff were stockpiled just in case; no tip off alerted them what the army had planned just sound common sense. For every action, there’s a reaction. The English army attacking would be the natural reaction.

Lee came out of hospital after three weeks, his arm was tender with fifteen stitches, leg was stiff and his cheek had a livid scar of fresh tissue and scars. This wouldn’t hurt his chances with the ladies; they went on fighting skill and on the size of your gun, not on looks. A small celebration was planned at John, Lee and Sarah’s gaff, with Red and Gun Barrel who brought the booze, a wicked combination of Polish Tyskie/Lech beer from a grounded wrecked Polish freighter on the Yorkshire coast and moonshine. Sarah cooked some of her special home made stew using freshly grown tomatoes, potatoes, carrots and onions from the hospital garden mixed in with bartered chickens she got from a local farmer in exchange of medical supplies. She used a huge fifty-litre pan on a fire of logs and moonshine in a stone surround, in their flats back garden.

“C’mon lads, get some of this down ya necks! This’s the best grub you’ll ever have, better’n your mums!”

“Here Sarah grab a Polish beer, the best foreign ale!” Gun Barrel threw her a beer, which she caught without blinking. She cracked it and took a half can gulp.

“Thanks Gunny, this is strong shit. Where you get it?”

“Do you remember the stranded Polish freighter called the Wilga? From there. We have a contact up by the coast in Yorkshire; he contacted us and said do we want a hundred plus crates. We said yes and he smuggled them down in an old horse drawn farm vehicle. We traded guns and moonshine, usual shit really,” Gun Barrel explained.

“Yes I remember the ship, ran aground in a storm a few years ago. I’m surprised there was still beer on it,” John said surprised.

“That’s right, turns out it was hidden in a secret compartment someplace. Anyhow our man found it and here it is. Sure is good, eh folks?”

“Still tastes good even if it’s two years out of date!” Sarah laughed.

More beers were handed around the party began. Sarah dished up the thick stew that smelled heavenly and tasted exotically, Lee was the first to finish and asked for more, which he got. More beers popped and a crate soon was empty, the second started. Drinking, eating, having a laugh, target practise with an old .22 air rifle, dated 1928! Red stacked up empty beer cans on the wall and dared anyone to drink a beer in one go and to hit five cans without a single miss. No easy feat as the gun was only single shot. John shot first after downing a beer in seconds but he missed due to belching loudly, his whole body rocking like a drunken policeman. His remaining shots got three tins, not bad but not good. He passed the gun to Lee so he could get more stew and a pint glass of moonshine, watching Lee from the corner of his eye. John paused in mid drink, then spoke, “Hey, you’ve not said what we’ll get if someone gets five hits? What do we get?”

“Well…” Red commented stumped on this one.

“I know what you will get, anyone who gets five cans in a row,” Sarah said slyly smiling. She disappeared inside a moment while Lee got all five empty cans. He whooped in joy, beat that lads! Red got two, the worst performance due to his beer intake. Gun Barrel joined Lee in five. Sarah’s go now…

“C’mon gal, it’s your turn. Show us lads how it’s done,” Red shouted.

“Hang on a minute lads, I’ll give you your prizes in a sec”, Sarah replied.

Sarah was in the flat, her reason being to really surprise her friends. She left the doors open and was scared someone would see her, she smiled as she saw Lee light some ‘shine covered wood and at her mates drunken fun as beer and moonshine flowed like the river of life. She’d really give them something to remember, for she had wanted to do this for soooo long. Quickly looking through some old pine draws she found what she wanted – a floral pattern summer dress from when she was only sixteen. When she was so positive about life, before the wars. She quickly changed in the shadows, in sight of the lads, she never took her eyes off them just drunken kids really, chilly March air hurried her, her bare shoulders white against the coming darkness. She threw her clothes to the floor and put on the dress; in an old cracked mirror she caught sight of herself, still a hot erotic figure evocative in the extreme with ample assets. She smiled at what she would do, what fun! She emerged into the coming dusk, dancing shyly outside singing an old song from the civil war. All eyes were riveted on Sarah as she circled the drunken fighters, all killers to a man and glances between them exchanged like what the fuck!? Sarah picked up a half drunk warm beer and raised it to the sky and “Whooped!” as loud as she could, a second later the lads did the same, drank from their drinks and joined in Sarah screaming, “Fuck the enemy whoever they are! We are the freedom fighters! Fuck them all, bring on the English army, we’ll fuck them, like we did the Welsh and the Scots and the Frogs. We are the best! Long live moonshine, guns and chaos!”

Sarah whooped and screamed dancing dangerously close to Lee, her eyes looking into his, her hand stroking his chest, down to his cock, for a split second she held it felt it move. She took a drink from his moonshine, stole a forbidden kiss and shouted, “My dear friends, soon you’ll be my lovers, all of you. I’ll give you something for hitting the empty beer cans that you wont ever forget!”

She danced up to John, Red and Gun Barrel; all sensed what was coming next, that the dance had only started. Sarah’s shapely legs showed under the thin dress, which hung to her body, hardly hid anything, gave an idea of something wonderful and extremely fun. Back to Lee where she knelt down on the damp grass, got his cock out and made it hard, a line had been crossed for this had never happened before, was it the calm before the storm, one last party before the end? Lee moaned as Sarah’s tongue caressed his delicate bell end in equally delicate flicking and licking motions, his orgasm started long before he came. He held onto Sarah’s bobbing moving head aware that all eyes watched him saw everything aware that they were next, Lee didn’t care who saw he wanted this moment to last forever, willed it to, burned it into his memory. He nearly lost his balance as Sarah tickled his balls with her finger nails, then he came his spunk shooting onto Sarah’s face, her bare shoulders, her dress, into her hair. She hurried to lick what she could as Lee still ejaculated, then she rose to kiss Lee so he could still taste himself and moved onto John. And onto Red, then Gun Barrel.

Sarah finished sucking Gunny off as he put his cock away; Sarah stood in front of her four dear friends, looking at each of them a wicked yet innocent smile on her face. She danced slowly and rhythmically on the grass side to side in a circle waving her hands sensually shaking her head so her untied brown hair gave her a wild yet rugged look. Her brown eyes said something even more erotic – make love to me now! She took off her spunk soaked summer dress, a musky smell surrounding her, to wipe sperm from her face with the crumpled dress and threw it on the fire. An end of her innocence and a start of something more. Sarah was absolutely naked in front of Lee, John, Gun Barrel and Red, none of them could believe their eyes as they stared a the naked young woman before them. The blowjobs were unreal but this? Just nuts. Gun Barrel who had just been gobbled by Sarah felt his cock harden again, Sarah walked past each man caressing his cock in turn. She ordered them to strip and join her in their birthday suits, not to be shy now! She thrilled at seeing Red or Gun Barrel naked, she had never seen them like this, she’d caught sight of John naked before, at school, and Lee when she walked in on him with a girl way back. Sarah embraced Lee pulling him towards her, kissing him passionately as they fell to the ground, she felt his hard cock on her naked thigh, he moaned like never before. His fingers found her most secret place, her pussy, tickling her brown pubic bush, entering her tight wet hole. She squirmed laughing girlily as Lee’s middle finger entered her to finger her for minutes, two more fingers followed to work her cunt making her squirm in ecstasy. Lee kissed her, moved lower, to her nice shapely tits, licking her nipples ending in a sharp nip, kissed her flat stomach, moved to her magic place. He licked her pussy, stroking her inner thigh with one hand, fingering her with the other as Sarah made deep animal noises until she came, wasting no time Lee put his cock up her wet pussy and fucked her deep and hard to make her have a second orgasm. She clawed his back her nails leaving livid red marks, soon he came up his friend turned lover but he didn’t stop – his thrusts became harder increasing in rhythm until he collapsed in drunken exhaustion. John, Gunny and Red loved it but couldn’t believe their eyes, now and again taking a drink of ‘shine or beer. After what seemed an age Lee rolled off Sarah, she smiled like a cat with the cream, a full tin. She used a finger to erotically indicate to John to come and join her, he came over and the dance was repeated in the oldest dance of all, until the other three men had made love and fucked their Sarah. A line had been crossed forever…

Years later in the morning naked drunken beer corpses slept in the garden and open room of the flat, smoke wafted in the early morning air from the smouldering fires, a blue sky hung overhead. Sarah woke first, fondly thinking of the night before. Today she would tell Red and Gunny about Juniper’s Daughter and the old woman and their mad trip. Going into the kitchen Sarah nicked one of Gunny’s cigars and Zippo lighters to enjoy a luxury smoke, she lit up in the kitchen, coughed in the acrid smoke and opened a dirty window using all her strength. She breathed in the cigar as one would a cigarette, coughing her guts up but liking the rush to the brain; it woke her up and reminded her of life’s little luxuries. Good friends, good sex, good booze and a smoke now and again. Time stood still as she looked out of the single grimy window onto the estate, their home through all the times, good and bad, through all these years. For how much longer though nagged in her head, how long before trouble really comes to town? Will we be able to stop it? Suddenly Lee joined Sarah in the kitchen, sneaking up on her. In his mind thoughts bounced like ping-pong balls, last night was fun with normal stuff like booze, a good feed, a laugh with good mates. He was fine with this but the crazy sex with Sarah one his closest friends caused him some consternation and confusion, he mulled over this again and again, yes it was fun but was it right? Yes with any other girl but with Sarah? This had never happened with her before, how did things stand now? He had to speak to her…

“Hi there Sarah, how are you? See you’ve found Gunny’s smokes.”

“Fuckin’ hell Lee you scared the shit outa me then! Yea, I like his smokes, nice and smooth.”

“Just like you the other night. What happened when we was pissed up, what was that all about? What were you thinking?”

Sarah laughed and rolled her eyes going bright red at the same time with embarrassment, a pretty innocent girly image that was a pure lie. Yet so convincing, bewitching in the extreme that had him even now as he questioned her thinking of her tight fanny with a shaven bit at the sides and trimmed pubes in the middle. He felt his cock twitch, he wanted to fuck her in the back of his mind yet his professional and personal experience taught him “No!” he would settle with masturbating when he was alone, an ideal settlement. Shit he was being drawn in again! Tight pussy, nice milky white thighs, good cock sucking, no strings sex… Aaaaaargh!

“My dear Lee, it was only a bit of fun, nothing more. Don’t worry about it.”

“I did enjoy it but I feel so odd about it now, I just don’t want it to cause problems.”

“No it wont cause any problems Lee, believe me, not with anyone including you. It was okay to have some fun, really.”

“I just wondered… I’m fine if you say that then, I do believe you.”

“One last party before the war! You know what it’s like in our game, we always live on borrowed time and must live for the moment. Look at our times in the civil war against the Welsh, we partied like fuck then but fucked other people, not each other. This time is different, even special…” Sarah ended their conversation. Lee wondered what she meant on the last battle, whom would this be with? The English army? He guessed so; recent events must cause some sort of reaction. An army attack would be just that reaction, for which they had to be ready and this was what they had tried to prepare for with provisions like food, water, first aid, weapons, ammo etc. Lee was okay with the sex thinking on, embarrassed yes if he thought deeply about it but relieved that no feelings from him would upset the small group. Sarah finished her cigar, stubbing it out in the dirty sink. Lee left to have a piss.

John awoke from his slumber jerkily and surreally, standing up slowly to stumble around the garden looking for his clothes. Out of the corner of her eye Sarah saw him, trying not to look. He found them, dressed in the damp smelly clothes and came to join Sarah.

“Hi Sarah how are you?”

“I’m okay big guy. Hell, you smell, you need a shower!”

“Is that an offer my dear?”

“Erm… no not just now, one day maybe?” Sarah teased dangling John a length of string. He left to take a piss.

Red and Gun Barrel joined the lady of the night, acting shifty, unsure of how to act. Its not every night you get to make love to your best female friend is it? Sarah had a little talk with the boys to smooth their delicate schoolboy feelings over and then she called Lee and John in to join the small crowd. She handed everyone old Tyskie beers and announced – “I have something to tell you, about the so called Juniper’s Daughter. Lee will also tell you about his small injury that you asked about last night and I’ll tell you fully about our trip we made out of Oldham, up to Leeds. John will tell you what he wants to trade the armoured car for that we stole, that is now parked in our lock up garage. You two,” Sarah indicated to Red and Gunny “will honour our agreement in helping out with the trade with the Rochdale war vets. We need you to double check our list of what we want, to check over the goods when we can view them so we aren’t ripped off. And as a back up, you can provide some security if anything happens to us. You will be our back up. First though I’ll tell you what I know about Juniper’s Daughter…”

For two hours Sarah talked, explained, answered questions, asked questions, got more beers and covered everything, including half an hour on plans if the dreaded army showed up. Juniper’s Daughter interested everyone and after the marathon talk, quiet and calmness descended as thoughts were digested in this coming time of change, almost as if her presence had filtered into the room.

Later Gun Barrel and Red led the trio to a separate flat on St Mary’s estate, seemingly abandoned with boarded up windows, a steel shutter bolted where the door should be, half the roof tiles missing and an overgrown garden. Entering this, walking slowly to a hidden trap door that sprang open to reveal a steep path going down into the bowels of the earth, Red and Gunny slowly descended followed by the others. Down below ground level was a room 30ft by 25ft with an eight-foot ceiling. This was the secret workshop where Red worked on his main love – bikes, stolen ones, old ones, abandoned ones, shot up ones, very rare original ones and his current trophy project, a trike for John, Lee and Sarah. This was finished, well almost, three bolts had to be tightened up, left on purpose by Red who passed a spanner from a side bench to Sarah, who in turn raised an eyebrow at Red. He nodded and Gun Barrel pulled an old tarp that had been used pre-war in the old British Army as a cover for illegal smuggled Iraqi weapons, aside to reveal a stunning trike as promised the trio. Shiny silver chrome shone like new diamonds in the dim light from outside and a bare forty-watt bulb connected to an old car battery, metallic green paint shone like a green lizard in the rain. Black rubber tyres glared deep blackness, thick back ones and a thinner front one, filled with compacted sand to replace air and to provide some protection from gunfire – no punctures from single shots and a small get you home chance. A fuel tank of egg shape 30litre size to hold white fire moonshine derived fuel, dangerous stuff kept in the armoured four-milli thick fuel tank, with a one-way valve feeding from a larger 80litre tank over the engine under the rider’s seat. A single driving seat position made of parts from a half completed and now abandoned Lada Kalina car project, itself to be souped up to five litres and be the fastest car on England’s roads. The nukes stopped all of that. Red rescued the five-litre engine from the Lada along with the drivers’ Recarro bucket seat for the same position on the trike, the five point harness was as new and in working order. Behind the front seat was a double seat taken from the back of a bullet ridden Fiat Panda left at the side of Julian House, St Mary’s, surprisingly the leather was intact and covered in khaki waterproof material from an unused army tent. Not as luxurious as the front bucket seat but more practical. This was the gunners/passengers position with gun mountings either side to give a clear field of fire for machine pistols or machine guns like a Bren or Browning of up to 7.62mm calibre. Boxes of ammo were to be carried in armoured side boxes that could each carry up to a hundred kilos in weight. And behind the double seat was the passenger seat from the Lada, just the same as the driving one but facing to the rear – the reason, a rear tail gunner to use a weapon to cover the rear. When carrying four people, all armed with semi auto guns, the trike would be a superb hit and run weapon for armed recon and the like. Now it brought stares of admiration and almost lust from the guys and gal in child like wonder.

“Well, well, would you look at that baby?” Lee whispered, “She’s a beauty…”

“I knew you’d do it Red, I’m impressed,” Sarah smiled.

“Fuckin’ hell, you son of a gun, you’ve done it!” John happily cursed.

“Now you see my latest finished project, my new trike made of old, used, damaged and new parts. She doesn’t have a name yet. I’ve spent many hours here slaving to finish this baby. I’m glad you like it, Gunny helped with the spraying, lifting the engine and more,” Red explained.

“Yes, I assisted my boss here and here she is, finished, eh Red?” Gun Barrel finished.

Silence blossomed as the trio of fighters examined the trike, touching, caressing, examining and feeling. Sarah carefully sat on the driving position, fastened the five-point harness with difficulty, gripped the long low rider handlebars and smiled like a drama queen. Lee and John took up the double seat behind, fastening their harnesses and adjusting them for comfort. Gun Barrel passed them both semi/automatic Bren Guns to clip onto the mountings, with little difficulty, which both men did to hold, aim, load, re-load (with empty mags for safety) and to unclip from the mountings. This playing around took ten minutes and then Browning machine guns were clipped in place with snail clips due to the bigger size and weight of the weapons. A box of two hundred and fifty rounds was mounted on each gun, in turn both men practised with the weapons to get used to the gun mounts and guns. Sarah swapped positions after being taught the controls, with the engine off, to try out the gunners position, John and Lee did likewise with the riders position, then everyone tried out the rear seat with single gun mount. All in all everyone was impressed. Red called everyone together and explained the delicate fuelling operation with white fire. He gave everyone a bottle of it and showed them how to put it in the main fuel tank, nice and easy not to spill any or waste any, enough here for a brief test to see how the trike handled on the road.

Red had ran the engine on white fire after removing it from the Lada Kalina, stripping it down, cleaning, repairing and modifying it. After a dozen problems and false starts he had a working engine of massive power and performance but high fuel consumption combined with low endurance. With Gunny’s help they mounted the engine into the trike frame with the other components but he hadn’t taken it onto the street, settling for engine running tests on the stationary trike in the basement room. With the trios help the trike would be given a test run, Red directed everyone to push the trike up the ramp and into the overgrown garden, onto the driveway. Driving it up under power was too risky an explosion would bring the house down, no one was experienced in riding it, five of them pushed it up in teamwork. Gun Barrel shut the entrance door, no trace showed of the hidden secret room where this masterpiece was built. Red got onto the trike and ordered the others back and turned the key, as our intrepid young people walked through the long grass into the flat. From here they watched, safe from any accident.

It was only right for Red to do the test; it was his baby, the product of his labour, love, thoughts, input, of himself. Yes Gunny helped and the trio came up with the original idea for the trike to explore the outer areas beyond Oldham and given moral support but Red had to do this. For any risks were his, his alone, if the engine blew up and set off the main fuel tank it would only take him with it, destroying his fierce looking creation and himself. He looked behind into the flat and nodded to Gun Barrel, John, Lee and Sarah. Fuelled up with white fire for an engine run around the block, this was the moment halfway there with a turned key – silence! Red pressed the red starter button, fuel entered the twin carbs and fired the engine in an animal roar, he let it tick over at a steady roar, running on pure alcohol. After one minute by his stolen Gothic Hellfire watch he revved the engine with the left handgrip, a noise from Hell bounded around the garden, the flats, the estate, never heard before. A real beast had been born.

Red engaged low gear with the clutch and moved slowly away out of the driveway onto the tarmac road, he turned slowly and rode down the road in low gear, turned around, slowly accelerated, engaged a higher gear to increase speed and revs and sped along eating up the road. A banshee noise accompanied him; the small group emerged from the flat to view the event, along with numerous other people who lived on the estate. Up and down the access road Red rode, satisfied with his test, to use up the remaining fuel, he returned to the flat almost on empty. He raised his left hand in the air in a clenched fist, the symbol for victory with the freedom fighters and he shouted long and hoarsely, a cheer from all-present went up, never ending. Into the sky, for freedom! For us!

“I’m happy with the test. She’s a real demon, perfect,” was all Red modestly said.

Over the next few days Red tutored Gun Barrel, Sarah, Lee and John on the correct way to ride the trike at varying speeds and fuel economies to cruise (to save precious fuel) and to escape from trouble (to speed away). When Lee fucked up and hit a curb with the front wheel, bending it, ripping the tyre and nearly upending the trike, Red was patient and consoling. Not the usual in yer face trouble, for he knew just what a machine this was, a potential killer to the crew, not the enemies on the receiving end of the guns it would later carry and use in anger. Red had Gun Barrel check gun mountings and mount four guns – a thirty calibre Browning on each side positions and a twin mounting on the rear, this gave twice the rear gun power to deter any danger. A practice mission was planned and carried out along the old main roads of Huddersfield and Ripponden Roads, up to an old stone quarry at Bezom Hill to shoot up targets made up of old abandoned cars, using half of the ammo. On the straight bits Lee hit 80mph, on the return Sarah touched 90! Built for four people, someone had to double up on the rear seat; Gun Barrel sat on John’s knee much to the amusement and snickering from the others. Returning to Oldham Edge, the rest of the ammo was fired off into wooden targets at five hundred yards to simulate enemy soldiers, on the move and stationary. This included them and the trike. Wood didn’t move though so this bit had to wait to real combat, gun aiming while on the move was at best tricky as the power, speed and agility of the trike ruled out any dead accurate gunfire, every round would never hit the target but it was enough. Machine guns were great area weapons keeping an enemy’s head down.

Lee organised the trade of the armoured car with the Rochdale war vets. They wanted the armoured car for payback against the English army for some past skirmishes; an attack on the Manchester/Cheshire base was planned. They had dozens of small arms but no heavy stuff. Lee offered the car and half a dozen medium range all use rocket launchers with fifty warheads for a huge variety of small arms including pistols, revolvers, ammo, new machine guns smuggled in from Europe, stun guns, knuckle dusters, knives, bayonets and more. This would be traded for goods of value on the estate and further a field, also used if necessary if the army came.

John drove the armoured car carrying the launchers and warheads, Lee and Sarah followed on the trike in convoy down to Rochdale. Sarah controlled the twin rear guns, the armoured car led the way, no trouble occurred and not a round was fired. The meeting took place at the back of an old Oxfam bookshop on Baillie Street near the bus station, up a rough back alley, secret enough but good ground for an ambush. John halted at the designated meeting point, turned off the engine of the armoured car and manned the turret guns. Lee parked the trike and waited for his contact to show.

“Here he is now! Hey Gizmo you old motherfucker, how the fuck are you?” he shouted.

“Well fuck me and call me a duck, if it aint my old mate Lee!” the dishevelled Rochdale vet shouted back. “And who’s this fine young chick on the trike? I’d love to fuck her!” the vet continued. Sarah glared at him and aimed the Browning at him, not sure if she could miss Lee but certain she would kill the vet if it came to it, she never did trust vets like him, common past or not in the civil war.

“She’s outa bounds old Gizzy. Now lets talk a trade, show me your tackle.”

“Okay Lee, but my men keep hold of it, just look. You test it later after I’ve had a go of my new armoured toy. You got the rocket launchers?”

“Yea, in the car. With enough warheads to fuck whomever you want. Not us though, we’ve got the de-arming codes.”

“Fine then, come and see my kit, you wont be disappointed,” the vet quietly continued. He led Lee to the back of the bookshop where the weapons were stored. Together they checked off Lee’s list to what was present, a time consuming event lasting half an hour. Lee returned to Sarah and told her it was all there, then to John in the armoured car giving him permission to show the vet the vehicle and goods. The vet insisted on a test drive with Lee present and a quick bit of target practice on the clock tower of the Rochdale town hall half a mile away, Lee parked on the council car park and advised the vet on the systems. The guns were the main ones, the boom boom system as the vet called it, he thought it was a fine piece of engineering, wondering how it would work in practice? He took up the gunners position and familiarised himself with the controls – elevation, azimuth, traverse, all on a simple joystick control like a pistol hand grip, all electric with manual/hydraulic back up. A wicked sight with infrared vision for night/bad weather/daylight use. If available radar could be hooked up to it mounted on the turret. A laser target designator/rangefinder gave distance and target lock to the guns max range of two miles. Aiming without zooming in, the vet picked out a dirty stained glass window four floors up, and fired one high explosive shell which took the entire window out in a multi coloured rainbow of glass and lead and frame. Then re-aimed higher up on the clock face, mired with a dozen years of dirt and neglect, firing five shells to dissolve it in a shower of destruction. The vet didn’t say one word; the huge idiot grin on his face said it all for him the trade would go ahead.

Returning to his friends Lee talked with Sarah who still manned the twin Browning, covering the half dozen rough looking vets. John leaned casually by the trike killing time. Sarah had heard the gunfire and she knew the trade would go ahead, she was happy with getting more small arms and ammo for the small arms they already had but she would miss the armoured car and its firepower and four wheel drive and armour. The trike was fast but more vulnerable, still they had plenty of medium range rocket launchers left. Snapping out of her reverie, she helped everyone load the side panniers on the trike with bullets, guns, knives, bayonets and more until the cover wouldn’t shut. More was carried in canvas holdalls strapped into the unoccupied seats. Trade complete, it was back to Oldham to store the stuff in the lock up garage, sort out further trades with local people on who needed guns, ammo, etc, etc over the next few days, the trike was refuelled and stored in Red and Gun Barrel’s flat until it was needed.

Meanwhile, a powerful army prepared to attack…

Chapter4 English army assault

His military history was rather good with service in all of the wars that had come about since day dot; the 1^st Persian Gulf war in 1991 as a light tank commander, in Bosnia in the 90s as a peace officer able to use force as and when needed, in Kosovo in 1999 as an all forces Joint Commander getting ready to invade Serbia (never happened due to air power), to the 2^nd Persian Gulf war in 2003 as an Allied ground force commander who saw much action, to various confusing actions hard to differentiate in the civil wars of 2005-08 when Wales/Scotland gained independence, to preliminary planning on war against France in the fishing dispute that went nuclear and finally, to anti guerrilla war action in a sort of non war counter insurgency action against his own country men, this man was the best his country could produce. A killing machine with a brain with experience and a nickname to boot, Cocksucker! Captain Alun Cook abbreviated as Cocksucker. Everyone including the vets, freedom fighters and everyone else in the know or who carried a gun knew him. Now Cocksucker turned his attention to crushing armed groups in Oldham in an operation that was a template for more of its kind – to crush all known gun-wielding groups in England, to kill all who could join such groups. His experience was huge, his planning excellent and his resources what remained from pre-war stocks and what could be made after. Against such well armed and trained and experienced fighters such as Sarah, Lee and John who stole the armoured car and on Red and Gun Barrel who were dangerous for other reasons, he had to use massive well aimed force, without mercy.

He would use what means he saw fit, his own troops were few in number and unless in Spitfires, couldn’t be in two places at once. He would use tactics which made the Nazi’s such ruthless and merciless killers in war and occupation; England was a war zone now with almost a decade of death. He would add to this, his forces prepared to attack with all weapons all at once. Enemy strength numbered an estimated hardcore 300 men and women with small arms and some heavier kit but no heavy weapons like tanks, mortars or missile launchers, nevermind witchcraft – airborne systems like jet fighters or gunship helicopters or robot planes. A field day was planned…

Captain Cocksucker liked to stroke things, things to do with war and death, rarely his men’s cocks when he was in the mood, this time his left hand stroked the tools of his trade – war! One hundred and fifty five millimetre artillery shells with intelligent warheads, like the ones the Jews used against their Middle Eastern targets. The Jews knew just how effective they were killing civilians, armed insurgents, destroying built up areas, etc, surely the best weapon since the bayonet. He caressed the gold coloured shell like one does a dog, smiling at the thought of the sleeping High Explosive within that would kill and maim in six different warhead settings. He’d destroy the estate with these and root out all enemy freedom fighters, totally, they stole his armoured car after a fatal ambush killing two of his men and blew up his hardened petrol storage bunker with illegal heavy weapons. They had to pay and the car needed retrieving along with members of the freedom fighters to torture to obtain information on weapon caches (including the rumoured lock up garage on the estate), future attack plans, enemy numbers, links to other towns and more. After this they would be liquidated like the trash they were. He turned to look around the ammo storage room – he saw hundreds, no thousands, of shells all waiting for his order to be fired from his dozen 155mm mobile enclosed howitzers which would bombard Oldham town centre and other target areas before his soldiers went in to kill and take a few prisoners.

His eyes moved to boxes of mortar rounds, rocket launcher rounds, mortar and rocket launchers, machine gun ammo, guns of all types and a dozen other weapons, he felt really happy like all the other times before a war or operation, a warm fuzzy feeling filled his insides. Was this God? Was he God? Was he acting through God? Was he doing God’s work? Yes to all but time would tell…

Captain Cook was forty nine years old in early April 2015, born in a mining village in Cornwall, he joined the British Army after the last tin mine closed and thrust him and his backward village onto the dole and the social. Bullied at first for being an inbred sister fucker (he only fucked her once when he was pissed, never again, she was shit in the sack), he got a taste for war and killing in Northern Ireland (he called this a tea party, not a war/conflict) and it went on from there. He was nothing much to look at, medium height, white Caucasian with receding brown hair cut short, deep green eyes that he regularly used to psyche out his victims, slight freckles that gave him a feminine/boyish look in some light and a pointed little nose like an elf. He was a product of the times, he learned fast missing nothing, for example reports of a new high performance illegal motorbike based vehicle, armed, being used by the insurgents – the freedom fighters. He wanted to destroy this vehicle with its crew, in battle if possible, by himself! Yet he would enjoy it being killed by any of his army, they followed his orders and his will, he would do whatever it took. He looked at his watch; time to order the Logistics people to bring all of this ammo to the forward units.

The first attack occurred on a warm spring day in early April. Cocksucker gave the order, six mobile howitzers opened fire on Oldham town centre firing two hundred rounds and sixty fired onto St Mary’s estate. Fire for effect, ninety pound shells flying at a mile a second from ten miles away (maximum range was closer to twenty), drive forward slowly firing to close the distance until the targets were wrecked/subjugated ready for the infantry. Rounds would be fired to keep enemy heads down and to kill any enemy strong points like flats made into bunkers or groups of enemy in the open. Each 155mm shell contained forty pounds of high explosive that detonated with nose fuse contact with the ground or a target such as a flat. These would be blasted apart by the blast shockwave, shook down earthquake style, sliced by jagged shrapnel (each shell had a steel case of over forty pounds), to kill and flatten. Captain Cocksucker ordered ground burst due to a lack of “in the open” targets to use air burst shells on; an inexperienced army would be annihilated on exposed terrain without cover by airbursts. Not a single casualty by the attacking army would be suffered, howitzers would kill everyone and this situation was much different. The freedom fighters were experienced and dangerous and under cover, this made Cocksucker even more eager to kill them all. No mercy…

Lee jolted awake when the first shell pummelled into a block of flats two hundred yards away. “What the hell?”

“That’s artillery! The army is attacking!” John screamed.

“We better get outa here, right fuckin, now!” Lee screamed.

“Whoa, what the fuck?” Sarah shouted jerked from her deep sleep.

“This’s it babe! The army is on the way, we gotta move, now!” Lee bellowed grabbing his stuff and eying his mates with eager not quite scared eyes.

They grabbed their guns, coats, duffle bags containing water and food to go into the safest place in the block of flats – the rubbish bin room. A room which was central in the block with a steel door with concrete walls, an ideal bomb shelter, proof from all but a direct hit or near miss. They reckoned if the top floor, the 4^th, was hit they would wreck the top floor/s but leave the ground floor intact but shaken. This room was stronger than a flat with twice the thickness of concrete in the walls, so they had a better than even chance here under bombardment. They ran out of their flat, shutting the front door but not locking it(locks hadn’t worked for over six years) to not draw attention to it, sprinted fifty yards to the room, opened the metal door and fled inside to sit the shelling out. Soon outside business had to be checked out, this was no place for the army to trap them, advancing after the fire on foot or in armoured vehicles, straight after while a stunned enemy came to its senses. No English army would advance under their own fire, ten years of war depleted man power and vehicle strength, high explosive death would be enough to start with.

Lee thought how this could happen without word getting out that the enemy was on the way, hopefully freedom fighter casualties wouldn’t be too heavy but for civilians living on the estate, it was a different matter. Such a scene – one shell hit the side of a three floor block travelling at 1,600 metres a second taking nine seconds to arc over from firing point to impact, a little over eight miles. Nose fuse sensed sudden deceleration and in a hundredth of a second triggered a detonating charge set off the nose fuse shattering the steel shell in a second of war and death. Trajectory carried it through the roof, down through the living space(unoccupied) of the front room, through the floor into the middle flat where it went off. Explosive gas sucked and burned the very air, blast overpressure of many of thousands of pounds per square inch kicked out the walls, lifted the ceiling, collapsed the floor. Shrapnel from the casing cut through flesh, furniture, shot into moving concrete panels, escaped into the outside air moving at a thousand metres a second. A thirty two years old single mum of three called Tracey was blown in half, she saw her legs vanish before she lost her eyes and her life. Her three kids were torn apart before the three-storey building collapsed to rubble killing eight more people, two of the freedom fighters.

Auto loaders slammed 155mm HE shells into breeches faster than any human hand time after time until ammunition was exhausted. Re-supply armoured vehicles sped to join the howitzers to re-supply precious shells, this created a lull in the bombardment, a shaken John, Lee and Sarah were alive in the rubbish room, hearing dulled, eyes watering. Closest hit was thirty yards away rocking and rolling the block like a drunken ship in a storm of no mercy. They grabbed their kit and ran like hell, coughing in the dust and smoke, knowing that this wasn’t good, that people were dead, trapped alive under collapsed buildings, wounded or blown to bits. Straight to the lock up garage to grab more arms, something to hit back with – all use medium range rocket launchers to shoot back when the heavy vehicles came to the three-mile mark. First blood went to the much-vaunted English army led by Captain Alun Cook but vengeance would soon be calling.

Red and Gun Barrel would be getting out with the trike, so would all of the other fighters still able, to defensive positions in flats, the power station, old brewery, in trenches in open ground and a dozen other sneaky places. Sarah ran down a street behind the men, staring in disbelief at two full blocks smashed like broken teeth. Screams came from within, horrid begging screams to be saved and rescued, not to be trapped to die.

“Guys, we have to do something, stop! We have to help and get them out.”

John stopped and walked up to Sarah, looked into her crying eyes, saw too many emotions that he felt himself.

“We can’t help Sarah, we have to go, now. We have to fight back, for them. We’re the only hope. Come now,” he soothed her taking her hand and jogging to a waiting Lee who said nothing but felt the same. Time was running out. Looking over the town centre from their slightly raised elevation, it was more of the same, smoke rising from fires where heavy shells had hit.

At the lockup garage Lee opened the heavy greased lock with ease, placed it on the ground, opened the black metal door and stepped inside to stare at the weapons neatly stacked on shelves, by the walls, in boxes, everywhere. He walked to a small box, turned a nail one way to safe the booby traps wired all around this garage and picked up a rocket launcher, checked it and smiled. Opening a box of warheads, he picked one up and placed it gently into the launcher, turned the sight on and the small computer display to check the functions. Happy, he handed the weapon to Sarah, then a second to John a minute later.

“Put some warheads into your duffle bags, we cant carry all of them but three dozen should fuck the cunts up enough to give us time to plan a counter attack. Come on, move it people!” Lee ordered. They did as told.

“Lee, we’ll take some more guns. I think we’ll need them for any troops that get into the estate. What you think?” John commented wisely.

“Good idea. I think an Uzi and an assault rifle with some ammo, along with our other guns should be enough.”

“Please pass me some, I wanna get tooled up. I want revenge, I really do. I’ve not felt like this since the Welsh twats hit our border towns. You all remember what a fuck up that was. We got even then, you both remember?” Sarah quietly spoke, revenge glistening in those lovely eyes, unnerving both men. Yet it was fighting spirit, they all needed it now.

“Okay, we have enough. Let’s go up to the agreed defensive position on the Edge, we can see and fire down from there,” Lee said.

Leaving the garage after priming the trap, locking the door, they ran to the edge of the estate past more shell hits, on open ground and on flats. No one stopped and stared this time or listened to several trapped people, up Horsedge Street, up the steep road to the old Blue Coat School to the Edge, past one set up position with two men and an old German MG42 machine gun from World War2. Lee smiled and asked how the gun was, for he had supplied it, a big smile said it all, both men gave the freedom fighter salute and all the trio returned it, continuing on their way. Three hundred yards ahead and the Edge rose above them, rough ground, trees, bushes, old quarries and mines and home turf. We’ll give them a fucking Stalingrad here thought Sarah, fuck the English army cunts, no one fucks with us and lives, nobody! On up to the old radio station transmitter not used for a decade or more but a great vantage point – John would climb it to try to see any targets, the others would set up fire positions below to the sides and fire on his command. He would fire a couple of warheads after John and Sarah had fired a good half dozen rounds off, keeping some for later. Walking up to the steel structure, he unslung his assault rifle and machine guns, placed the rocket launcher on his back, took three warheads and stuffed them into his open jacket, took a leather belt from his bag to tie himself to a girder and grabbed a pair of old binoculars and climbed. Up in five minutes, never looking down till he reached the spot he wanted, two thirds from the top, he tied his belt to the girder and around one arm. Raising his optics he scanned the skyline in all directions taking in the smoke, flames, destruction, people (civilians) milling around on the overgrown football pitch, other prepared fighting positions – unmanned, where were the fighters? On the way or killed? He frowned. Looking ahead he saw something, blinked hard, shook his head and looked hard again. Smoke hid what he thought he saw what was it? Artillery of some type? Then he saw a flash and knew it was a big mobile gun, firing on the move from many miles away down on the old Manchester Road, something like five miles or more away, in the distance behind it he saw more distant flashes of firing vehicles. Seconds later faint sounds of incoming heavy shells were heard growing louder as they hit the town centre around the old art gallery, again and again kicking up concrete dust and smoke and flame.

Looking down he motioned to Sarah, who told Lee to look up. John used hand signals to indicate distant artillery on the move and firing from five plus miles, indicated no infantry, yet, just the faint guns still very distant out of rocket range. It was a waiting game to not give their position away till the last minute when they fired, a front row seat in hell watching shells thunder down to explode on their home town, wrecking their flats, buildings, killing their friends, fighters and others. The guns John saw were the group firing onto the town centre, there must be another group he thought hitting the estate, he couldn’t see this group but shells fell down onto the flats again. Re-loading was complete; the fire shifted up to Coldhurst to kill any fighters and drive anyone else into the open or bottle them indoors.

High up the tower, a hundred twenty feet up, John felt concussion gently caress his face as a shell went off two hundred yards away on the grass pitch, digging a big hole twenty feet deep and thirty across. He saw people cut down by the zinging shrapnel, saw blood spurt and the people crumple to the ground, a good fifty yards from the shell, killed by a near miss. He was nearly sick but he shook his head and stared through his binos, waiting for the smoke to clear. Then he saw it! Coming up to three miles away, the first armoured howitzer, as big as an old 409 Oldham-Ashton bus, a really big cunt with a huge target area to hit. He shouted down to his mates, “Three miles, three miles! Big mobile armoured howitzers, I can see two, repeat two!” He indicated with his hands as well.

“Set your warhead for max range, fire it up like they do, to arc down and hit the tops of the guns. Their top armour will be the thinnest and we’ll fuck them. Wait till I see more, we don’t want to kill just two, we want more!”

Sarah and Lee shouted freedom fighter war cries and programmed their weapons, ready for war, to defend their town from a real enemy, the English army, who wanted to crush the freedom fighters. Minutes ticked by, more shells hit the town and estates around it, other shells fell on Primrose Bank, Eldon Street and a dozen other places. Then two more vehicles came into view, John gave the number, distance and signal to fire when ready! As Sarah and Lee had been ready for some minutes, two warheads sped on their rockets up and away to strike back at the armoured monsters that had them under siege. Before they arced down both had re-loaded and fired again, this would give the impression of more defenders with heavy weapons. And again, as the first two hit their targets in distant flashes of flame and smoke, no more firing came from the stationary vehicles but flame from one which erupted in a huge blast of metal and smoke in a huge concussion that John felt through the air, Lee and Sarah through the ground. A third vehicle was hit, exploding like the first in a volcano of unfired shells, less to rain on Oldham. John shouted down again and signalled, more vehicles, maybe re-supply or troop carriers. Fire six more rockets and get outa here! He fired four rockets, one in his launcher and his spare three in rapid succession after struggling to re-load one handed. He climbed down the tower in double quick time as smoke rose into the sky, not from 155mm shells but from medium range all use rocket launchers fired by Lee, Sarah and John. They exchanged info, glances, comments and swear words and ran to the cover of an old quarry dug into the soft sandstone of the Edge. Good timing! Incoming shells hit the radio station main building, tower, generator and storeroom obliterating it all in a cacophony of noise and smoke, too late! As the tower collapsed on itself, three fighters danced around like morons, drunk with victory as the shelling stopped and the attack petered out. The infantry was a couple of miles out, the loss of several howitzers, supply vehicles and maybe an Armoured Personnel Carrier gave the English army a bloody nose, teach them a lesson, don’t fuck with us!

Captain Cook was really pissed off, he didn’t expect such a swift counter attack with such heavy accurate weapons, nevermind the loss of four howitzers destroyed with crew and ammo load, one badly damaged with one dead and two wounded, an APC destroyed with fifteen soldiers killed and two crew, a supply vehicle blown to bits as the fuel and shells detonated. This stopped his attack, he pulled back beyond the range of where his first vehicle was hit and ordered a damage report and ammo count and re-supply of the seven undamaged howitzers. This gave the freedom fighters time to lose their shock of the initial attack, depriving his own infantry of surprise, so his enemy would be well prepared. Oh, he would bombard the town and firing areas as had been done before, the first enemy firing base was now a ruin but a mobile enemy was deadly as it was sneaky. To bypass the town would take time and fuel and expose his forces to further attack, he needed a new plan, a sneaky dirty plan to hurt the twats who stalled his first attack. He keyed his computer and calculated how many high explosive shells he had left, how many he could fire before bringing in his new plan, a real beauty it was too! After all he was the best Captain in the English army…

Red and Gun Barrel escaped the attack on the trike, circling the estate as shells fell, driving through the smoke and rubble to the Edge. They saw the trios defence with the rocket launchers, watched as the warheads sped away to wreak havoc on the attacking vehicles miles distant. Saw the incoming return fire less than a minute after the last warhead was fired, destroying the old radio station in a spectacular firepower demo. Did the trio escape unharmed? It would be mighty close. Driving up to the old quarry taking it slow over the rough grass and dirt, Gun Barrel shouted, nothing in reply…

Red shouted for minutes at a time. Still nothing, maybe they were killed at the station; Red was about to turn the bike to check the ruins when Gun Barrel saw movement, tracking it with the left hand machine gun. He held fire; it was Sarah, followed by John and Lee.

“Here they are! I knew you’d get outa that scrape alive you lot are like cats! Come aboard, your taxi awaits you!” Gunny shouted.

“Aren’t we glad to see you guy!” Sarah smiled.

“We hit them good, didn’t we? We fucked them over!” Lee shouted.

“Why are you shouting?” Red asked.

“What?” John chipped in, he knew what was being said by lip reading and their hearing rang due to the bombardment in the last hour. All three climbed aboard after passing Red two guns to sling over his shoulders, Gunny did likewise, Sarah climbed up next to him to man the right machine gun, slightly hindered by her gear. Lee sat on the rear seat on the twin guns but John made a real face, fussing on where he would sit – on Lee’s knee holding the gun, for support rather than real aiming. Their weapons barely fitted into the trike’s storage panniers, full of Red and Gunny’s guns and bullets. Back to the lock up to get more warheads for the launchers, then off to the forward defence position on the estate to be ready for the infantry attack which would come. But when? The trike was parked behind a wall, unloaded and people waited, the worst bit of any battle, ready for anything?

Captain Cocksucker ordered his guns to fire again, high explosive onto the same targets, mixed with gas shells to subdue the enemy and to save his infantry. After five minutes each shell was a gas shell, popping open mid flight over its own target area to disperse a green coloured cloud of knockout gas. Breathe that in and you’d be out for twelve hours and have on hell of a hang over, worse than the ‘shine. No one would beat him again but he relished a challenge, it made him the man he was today, in his element facing military problems in battle. He ordered a steady firing pattern on the areas of interest, he would get his prisoners and finish off the rest with bullets and bayonets and point blank howitzer fire(like the Soviets did in Berlin, firing over open sights, he loved his military history, especially when he created it).

In their position on the green in front of the flats, Sarah saw the gas shells disperse their cargo of gas. She went white, how was this possible? This meant they faced Captain Cocksucker and that they had big problems.

“Guys, I think that’s knockout gas, not nerve gas. It’s not Sarin or similar as that’s colourless,” she said.

“That’s fuckin’ great. The cunt wants us alive!” John shouted.

“Fuck that, I’ll shoot myself first” Lee warned.

“Don’t panic lads. Get your cocks out!” Sarah demanded.

“What did you say? We’re not pissed up now Sarah,” John shockingly spoke.

“I mean it! Much as I’d love to suck your cocks again, I’ve got a plan. Come on!”

“Hey, I know what she means!” Red shouted.

“What?” Gun Barrel said perplexed.

“You know in the old films on a U-Boat? When they was depth charged and the batteries was bust, the gas leaked gas. They pissed on rags and breathed through them to live,” Red excitedly said.

“Got it in one!” Sarah exclaimed.

“But what do we piss on?” Lee asked.

“These old t-shirts I’ve been saving for just this moment. Now show me your cocks again lads! And piss away!” Four big lads got their cocks out and pissed onto the old t-shirts Sarah gave out. She loved the site of their cocks, wanted to suck them, to fuck them all as before. In her heart she knew that was impossible, would never happen, that someone would be killed today. Just in time! Green gas came their way. Soon the infantry would creep upon a sleeping enemy and kill them as they slept and take a few prisoners to torture.

English army infantry slowly advanced through the green mist wearing full respirators giving them a bug like appearance of menace and coldness, heads moving side to side scanning for movement or danger. Guns at the ready, safety catches off. Five hundred well trained men intent on success at all costs, rooting out trouble having bayoneted thirty sleeping freedom fighters, capturing five for interrogation. Gunfire! One group by the old power station had gas masks! Old World War2 ones bulky when compared to the modern twenty first century ones but equally effective. Tracer fire fanned out from the station roof and side windows, glowing blue against the green fog like smoke of the gas, cutting into lead elements of troops killing and maiming them. Molotov cocktails and moonshine fire bombs were hurled forth, falling short causing no damage just visually spectacular. No heavy weapons but small arms fire, fired wildly like a trapped animal’s desperate defence. No problem as the army knew this was the location of the moonshine distillery; they called down heavy 155 fire, high explosive to demolish and burn the target. Support fire from four howitzers destroyed the concrete building with direct and indirect fire, toppling the hundred foot chimney onto the roof, setting off the ‘shine tank in a thunderous roar of flame. Broken pipes leaked almost pure alcohol onto the ground, spreading like water igniting like a sea of death from Hades itself, hundreds of litres burned, exploded, vaporised in a image of death amazing and stunning the soldiers. One group of men caught too close burned alive, running with arms waving, falling to their knees, onto their fronts, dead – nice and crispy. A nauseating smell of burnt flesh wafted through the air. Bypassing the burning power station English troops fanned out across the estate, bayoneting and taking more prisoners, loading those taken alive into Armoured Personnel Carriers to be rushed to rear positions to be interrogated.

The trio saw the power station explode as troops advanced upon it, stopping due to small arms fire and firebomb attack. A small stockpile of old gas masks served a lost cause, brave but futile, no one came out alive from the burning power station. Tears streamed down Sarah’s face, due to gas or the loss of trusted fighters and friends? John looked angry, a look of revenge on his face as he fidgeted in the trench, Lee undid his safety and aimed his weapon down the path the soldiers must surely pass. Red passed along rocket launchers and boxes of warheads, Gun Barrel thought of how to use the trike. Green gas swirled reducing visibility for seconds at a time, making the fighters cough and drowsy as the piss dried reducing its affect. Suddenly… soldiers appeared grey against the smoke, surreal spectres of another time, bug like with guns probing like proboscis.

“There they are! Get ready, fire when I say so, not before. They’ll think we’re asleep. Fire for effect making each round count; use the rockets on any heavy vehicles with warheads on armour piercing. If the troops look like overwhelming us, set warheads to blast effect. Lets fuckin’ do this!” Sarah ordered.

“I’m with you. See you all in Hell!” Lee shouted.

“Fuck yea!” from John.

Red and Gun Barrel did the freedom fighters cry for victory, the others copied it, the English soldiers heard this but Sarah screamed, “Open fire! Open fire! Kill the cunts!”

Gunfire sped forth from their position on the green hitting lead elements cutting them down like dominoes, no return fire at all. John, Lee and Sarah fired Heckler and Koch SP-71 assault rifles on semi automatic cutting soldiers down with single or triple shots from just over a hundred yards, Red used an old Kalashnikov on full auto spraying bullets like a watering can, reloading every three seconds. He had plenty of spare mags; Gun Barrel preferred a sniping rifle with telescopic sight, slowly working through his ten round mag with the care of a professional. As the troops went to ground fifty yards away, some attempted to rush the trench but paid a bloody price, Red, Gunny, Sarah, John and Lee swapped weapons to blaze away with Uzi machine guns putting down hundreds of nine millimetre bullets onto a killing ground hitting, killing, wounding a hundred soldiers. Bodies piled up like acorns beneath a tree, spent and unwanted. Accurate return fire came back from troops out of site; some sniping from the rooftops, in the murk no one could spot these. John picked up his assault rifle, Red his Kalashnikov to hose down the roof tops on full auto but the fire still came in, just missing Lee. He swore and fired at the group of bodies desecrating the already dead. Soon they would be outflanked as the enemy went up parallel streets hundreds of yards off to the right and left, with a roar a heavy shell came in and landed twenty metres wide shaking the ground to shower the trench full of fighters with earth and grass, shrapnel zinging through the air. Time to leave! They couldn’t see the howitzer, it must be behind the flats using indirect fire or using the smoke from the burning power station as cover. John shouted and everyone picked their weapons and remaining ammo and fled the trench, bending double running to the wall where the trike was parked. Not fast enough! With a roar of a jet engine and the force of a locomotive, a heavy shell descended onto the trench hitting it in a flash of flame and black smoke. Shrapnel zoomed out zinging through the air, hitting one of the group who fell like a sack of potatoes, screaming and cursing at the same time. The others made the wall.

“Shit, one of us had been hit!” Red shouted coughing through the smoky air as gas entered his lungs making him dizzy. He had dropped his piss covered t-shirt. He wheezed for breath.

“It’s Lee! Oh, no, it’s Lee!” Sarah screamed in desperation as another heavy shell landed on the trench knocking them off balance, the blast wave visible through the smoky air. Her ears ringing, she left the wall and ran into danger firing what was left of her Uzi mag from the hip to deter any soldiers from trying to take her prisoner, to try to save Lee if he was still alive. The others fired from the wall as Gun Barrel followed Sarah to drag Lee back, bullets thudded into the soft ground at their feet lifting up fingers of mud but missing. No heavy shells fell mercifully or both would be blown to pieces. They reached Lee, Sarah checking him over seeing half a dozen wounds bleeding profusely covering her hands with his still warm blood. Both dragged Lee ten yards to the wall as bullets bounced and whined off it, Red and John fired their Uzi’s on full auto, clip after clip giving covering fire. Sarah undid Lee’s jacket and his bullet proof vest which had holes in it where wicked jagged shell shrapnel had pieced it, a hole as big as her fist was where his heart was, blood seeped forth, broken ribs stuck out like fingers. He was dead, nothing could be done for him, Sarah screamed in loss and anger, her tears flowed forth like never before. She had lost one of her dearest friends, dead, dead, DEAD! Nothing would ever bring him back. Gun Barrel said something to her, she couldn’t, wouldn’t listen, her head was full of thunder, so many emotions. She didn’t know what to do, her training and experience fell away like petals from a dying rose. John fired from his position, never slackening up his fire; Red started the trike, having trouble with the engine firing up in the smoke. Gas filled Sarah’s lungs, she felt drowsy, slowly sank into oblivion, out of this awful world as the sounds of gunfire seemed remote, not here. She was drifting, going someplace else, someplace safe, not here where she was full of pain and loss and confusion. Red coughed and shook his head as the gas started to knock him out, he revved the trike, the engine firing fully on high revs. Gun Barrel got his cock out and pissed on his t-shirt to stop the gas, tied it around his chin, pissed on a second and handed it to Red. John threw his onto the floor and knelt by Sarah trying to awake her, shouts came from the other side of the wall, soldiers were near. Gunny reached into his jacket and his hand found his grenades, he held three, pulled the pins on each and tossed them casually over the wall. Two seconds later the short fuse grenades went off killing the soldiers outright giving them precious seconds to put a sleeping Sarah onto the trike, John and Gun barrel knelt by her and started to lift her and carry her over. Red left the engine on and climbed up to the passenger seat to man one of the Browning machine guns, firing straight away at advancing soldiers. Return fire shot over his head, more heavy shells fell onto the green, the trench and near the wall knocking half of it over, shrapnel killing several English soldiers by mistake. Nearly at the trike to lift Sarah up, Gunny was hit in the back and face, he tried to brush the wounds off but he fell to his knees and looked shocked and amazed, mouthing the word “Oh Fuck!” over and over. John picked up Sarah but gas started to take affect on his big muscular frame, slowing him down, blurring his vision, taking him over. The mad thing was, he couldn’t lift Sarah, it was like she weighed a hundred tons, the thought occurred to him and maybe she did as he started to lose consciousness. She fell from his arms and he stumbled to the trike whose engine misfired on the pure fuel and dirty air, Red fired one last burst from the Browning killing a dozen soldiers but fifty more followed them, his ammo was empty, he had no time to re-load. Someone had to get out of this alive, he looked down at John, jumped off the trike to help John into the passenger seat where he fell asleep immediately. Why had he taken off his piss soaked t-shirt? He would have got Sarah aboard if he hadn’t. Red had to make a choice, one of the worst he had ever made – to stay and be killed or captured or to escape with an unconscious John and leave Sarah? They didn’t have the time to decide, it was now, he had to do something. He jumped into the drivers seat and opened the throttle, the engine dangerously misfiring then picking up, he engaged gear and away they went as bullets sped forth hitting the ground, the wall, the sand filled rear tyres of the trike which stayed intact allowing Red to escape death or capture. Luckily no bullets hit the fuel tank or the could be killed if they penetrated the armour and hit the white fire fuel. Riding madly away, the trike bounced over rough uncut grass, across a road, around the corner, down a back alley, along a road, up a slight hill up to Oldham Edge. Here Red examined the trike for damage, two bullets in the right rear tyre, three in the left, both tyres intact and able to support the trike at medium speed. If they were normal air filled tyres they’d be fucked. He tried to wake John by slapping him and shaking him but it was too late, he would be out for many hours yet, maybe all day. Looking down from the Edge Red saw a scene from Hell, burning smoke from flats, the power station and other buildings filled the sky to drift up to the cloud base in an ugly black mass, green haze drifted along the ground slowly thinning, huge craters filled the road, grass areas, broken destroyed flats, rubble filled roads, ant like soldiers still in respirators all with guns, slowly advancing to where Sarah was, howitzer vehicles rumbling along over the grass, armoured vehicles of some type creeping along. A well prepared military machine, how the fuck were we meant to win this one? Lee dead killed outright, Gun Barrel hit, no one was able to check him, he may still be alive and he paid a noble price to try to save Sarah. What of her? Either death or interrogation through torture. Would he ever see her again? Shit, what a fuck up! Something had to be done, he wanted revenge but he needed to get help. If only he had some medium range rocket launchers, he could kill the entire army down there, pick off the heavy vehicles then murder the troops. Easy… but he had nothing heavier than the guns on the trike. Dismounting he opened the weapon storage panniers to see if he had any launchers but there were none, all had been left in the trench on the green. He should have put at least one rocket on the trike with spare warheads, what a bitter lesson to learn now. There was only one hope, the Rochdale veteran and is men, for they had the armoured car and more weapons and fighters. Climbing back aboard he opened the throttle and slowly drove away as soldiers below captured Sarah and Gun Barrel and laid a barrage down of heavy explosive shells to stop Red and John escaping. Did they make it to Rochdale?

Chapter5 The rape of Sarah

Sarah was taken to the main English army base on the Manchester/Cheshire border area, she wasn’t aware of this due to the powerful knock out gas used to subdue the freedom fighters. She was placed in an Armoured Personnel Carrier converted to a “Billy Truck”, a prisoner support vehicle and transferred to a cell on arrival at the base. Later she awoke unsure what had happened, where her friends were, where she was. Her head hurt like never before like the morning after a big party having drunk a bottle of ‘shine and then some. Yet had she been to a party? What had they been celebrating? The building of the trike? Yes, that must be it! Hell, my head hurts she thought, wondering why it was dark and she couldn’t see, was it still dark? Where they at Red and Gunny’s flat? Had the generator failed? She couldn’t hear it, anyone else’s snores or heavy breathing after drinking all that illegal booze, something wasn’t right here but she didn’t know what. Her head hurt, one hell of a hangover, she knew that and she was tired, so tired, slowly she shut her eyes and drifted away into sleep, deeper and deeper.

Images flashed in her dream, flashes of something but what? Noise of some kind, peoples faces one at a time appearing before her minds eye, one, then another, moving so quickly it became a kaleidoscope of smashing images all swirling, diving and shifting like snowflakes before her vision, surreal…

It ended, another dream came to her, a nightmare of putrid realities, her body shook in an almost epileptic fit, her limbs convulsed in time with phantom images attacking her mind, she frothed at the mouth, rabid dog style. And screamed while asleep a nerve ending body popping break dancing screaming unhinged dervish, for how long she didn’t know. It seemed to last forever…

The door opened and a light came on jerking Sarah awake, she twitched and screamed in shock, unsure of anything, the light on the back of the door darting around her watery unfocused eyes. Why was it there? How odd. Captain Alun Cook stood in the doorway with two armed soldiers. He ordered them to leave, came in and shut the door; he carried something – a bucket. Water? I need a drink Sarah thought, is it for me? A small army satchel balanced out the bucket, what was it for? He walked over to where Sarah was on the floor, alone, defenceless, he placed the items down and knelt beside her, looking at her with his deep evil crystal like eyes. She recognised him for who, what, he was right then and backed away to the corner, he remained still for ten long minutes looking at her, this lovely young lady before him. He smiled, laughing the laugh of a mad man, he grabbed Sarah’s arm and she tried to slap him, he blocked this dragging her towards him, closer and closer till a finger thickness parted their faces. She shut her eyes, he kissed her, she bit him hard tasting blood, he slapped her, bit her back. She cried but this encouraged him more, animal noises came from his chest, as he took off his uniform placing it neatly on the floor. He wasn’t naked; he wore a pink short summer dress and red tights and suspenders. Sarah screamed, this couldn’t be happening! No fuckin’ way! A bulge appeared in Captain Cocksucker’s crotch making the pretty summer dress look wrong. He approached Sarah, picked her up, slapped her when she wouldn’t stand, forcibly stripped her ripping and tearing her clothes off, her dirty sweaty body drove him crazy. He ripped off her underwear and smelt it, jumping up and down buzzing like fuck; reaching for the bucket he got a wet sponge and wiped Sarah’s pussy, before putting two fingers up. Pushing her to the floor he finger fucked her to get her moist, her body hungrily wanted him as she went into shock, another finger up her tight cunt to make her bleed before she came. A real hard big penis twitched in anticipation, he inserted this up her hungry pussy and raped her, making animal noises while thrusting all the way up her shooting his spunk into her most private place, his orgasm making him go insane, his nails clawing at her face, tits, legs, arms, unleashing blood from many wicked wounds. Cocksucker had the nails of a woman and raping instinct of a psychopath. Withdrawing his penis, he wiped it on the sponge and opened his satchel, taking out an old Polaroid camera. Clicking it on he took 36 photos of the delirious girl before him at all angles; sordid dirty perverted images for his men. They could share in the taste of victory and celebrate the culture of the English army, Sarah was the six hundred and fifty ninth bitch he had raped. He didn’t keep count of the men he raped it wasn’t good sportsmanship. As each pic whirred out of the camera he let it dry and placed it in a folder he got from the satchel. Opening the door he gave the folder of porn to one of the waiting soldiers so he could take it to his mates and have a laugh.

Taking a thirty millimetre cannon shell from the satchel he wiped it with the sponge and opened Sarah’s legs, stroking her smooth milky white thighs before putting the shell slowly up her cunt. Just an inch to relax her pussy, gently in and out, fucking her with the shell, further up until the six inch length was all the way up, to the brass shell case. He turned it round and played with her clitoris to make her cum, her body moaned and bucked like a row boat in a summer storm, she arced her back and came. He matched her movements with gentle thrusts of the shell, the best dildo she ever had this made Cocksucker hard again. He wanked his cock with one hand as the other used the shell to fuck Sarah senseless, he spunked up on her left leg, wiping it in, onto her open lips. She tried to bite him but he slapped her and mounted her, holding her tight rubbing his cock on her thighs, on the shell still up her cunt and onto her toned belly. Finishing his act, Captain Alun Cook left the cell and let the remaining guard have his way with her, he had a thing about arses so he bum fucked her with Lube 2000 from the satchel. He never stripped, just undid his zip and away he went until he was done…

So ended the first session in the rape of Sarah. Next came the interrogation, for secrets that would be useful for the English army and the destruction of more freedom fighters, all over England. Lessons had been learnt from the first operation and more intel was needed. Sarah was taken to a shower to freshen up under supervision of three male soldiers, all clothed and armed with guns and whips, she got the message and didn’t struggle. They took her to a room with a variety of apparatus in it including a doctor’s position with equipment, a computer with operator, a camera operator with an array of expensive modern gear, a dentist chair and much more. Sarah was strapped to the chair, injected with truth serum (refined Sodium Pentathol) to uncover any secrets her devious mind hid. While the drugs worked the men chatted about the photos of Sarah’s abused body, how they liked them, how lucky Corporal Giles was to fuck her up the ass, how they wanted to fuck her, this in itself unnerved her, she was alone, unarmed and out of her depth here.

Strapped to the dentist chair Sarah was helpless but this was no sexual assault, a mental invasion to rape her mind of her military secrets of which there were many – the lock up garage full of weapons, info on the Rochdale vets including strength, how they operate, weapon inventories of many more groups, the trade of the armoured car, what it was exchanged for, her own fighting experience in the civil war when Scotland and Wales gained independence, several major ops against the newly formed English army including the last one against the armoured car. Her mind collapsed or rather re-shaped, barriers being lowered, synapses opening up and pathways to her secrets that the army wanted. She tried to stop this, not physically but in her own mind in a small battle, imagining her own freedom fighters rushing to kill the threat but an English army boot stamped on this and squashed them dead so all her secrets flowed forth like water, unstoppable. In a drunken rambling voice Sarah told all as the serum raped her mind, her secrets flowed forth being recorded by multi media devices – an old video camera, an equally ancient tape recorder, six digital recorders, still photos, data entered onto the computer by a man who spoke into a microphone, intermittently typing. Captain Cook oversaw the interrogation, asking questions when needed, working with several specialists on certain key subjects(like planning ops against the English army, what about any future ones?). So many questions, over forever in this surreal stretched out waking dream time, on and on and on and on…

After her interrogation Sarah was returned to her cell to recover, for the serum to wear off. She was comatose, oblivious to current events, how much was her mind protecting itself, a natural wall? Would it be there forever? For ten hours she slept without pause or dreaming, on waking she saw a meal had been provided with a drink, she didn’t touch it at first but hunger drove her to consume the grey tasteless goo and water. Later the door opened and Sarah was taken blindfolded down winding corridors. It was removed, daylight blinded her, her vision blurred, returned, focused on ten figures tied to upright posts. She saw they were fellow freedom fighters from the town, snatched after the battle; it was obvious what was going to happen. Captain Cocksucker stepped out of the doorway and spoke, “This’ll happen to you…”

He walked over to the squad and issued orders. Glancing over to Sarah he shouted, “Watch this Sarah”. More orders ending in, “FIRE!”

Ten people died a bloody death. Cocksucker walked up to each corpse, kicked it to see if it moved and fired into the top of the head with a pistol if it did. Sarah retched up her gooey meal, violently being sick before collapsing into the puke…

Following the execution of ten spent freedom fighters Sarah was upset knowing her fate, she was defenceless against the truth drug. How could she fight something that cut into her mind so perfectly? Tears streamed down her face as she was led away after being brought to, back to her cell smelling of vomit. She saw four soldiers waiting for her, what now? Fuck no! Not again! They smiled reading her mind as she drew level with them, Cocksucker pushed her forwards – “Into the cell, you’ll enjoy this!”

“Fuck you!” was all she could reply.

“You already have.”

Into the cell, six of them, Cocksucker supervised, laughing and joking offering the men matchsticks to draw lots to see who would fuck her first. A short red haired lad drew the short straw, it would be him, he came up to Sarah smiling shyly, looking a bit ashamed. He was barely 18, she actually felt a pang of pity for him, she had to go along or she was fucked. Cocksucker grinned ear to ear as he held a small gun on her. Thinking back Sarah remembered making love to her friends, how special it was, how everyone including her enjoyed it, she would endure this. The lad stripped in front of her and his comrades, his small cock grew a little longer, his bell end pushed slowly out of his foreskin, a bit of sperm glistened on the tip. He was a premy, she better get on with it, taking off her smelly clothes to show her stunning naked body. Stepping up to him she kissed him on the lips, looking into his scared puppy dog eyes which looked away, her hand found his cock and led him by it to the middle of the room where she lied down, beckoning him to mount her. He did so clumsily his cock finding her cunt, which was wet, ready for him, her body wanted to live, to do anything not to die including be a whore, her mind was shut except for simple thoughts, animalistic. She guided him inside and he moaned with pleasure as Sarah moved gently underneath him to get him moving with the rhythm slowly rocking and quietly moaning on each thrust. In two minutes he spunked up her fanny losing his virginity to a woman over seven years his senior. He withdrew and left the room, embarrassed, as the second came over already naked and the sex continued until all had fucked Sarah. She was exhausted after this, falling into a troubled sleep with haunting faces tormenting her…

Acting on the info Sarah gave them under interrogation by the truth serum, the army moved to find the lock up garage with illegal arms, they wanted to find the suppliers to act against them to kill any future threat. Led by Cocksucker a section of three howitzers waited five miles form the town centre out of range from any rocket threat, they remembered the previous attack and would provide fire support from the Failsworth area with impunity. Four APCs, two full of troops, two empty to collect illegal arms, backed up with three armoured cars made up the full force of great tactical firepower and mobility.

Speeding along the section left the army base, remained in radio contact with it and the other vehicles remaining at the Failsworth firebase, entering the warzone. Four days after the first assault fires still burned, smoke palled over the wrecked town; broken bodies remained unburied rotting in the spring heat. Wild dogs fed on the corpses becoming fat with putrefying flesh; the army encouraged this because it would spread infection and disease.

On the edge of Oldham town centre a group of Asian youths was sighted, they fled for their lives. After the defeat of the freedom fighters a power vacuum remained, the Pakis wanted to occupy it but the spotted ones knew this was their end. One armoured car left the formation hitting top speed as it shot after the group of six Asians who hid behind a ruined orange Ford Focus with white go-faster stripes and fairy dice and alloys. One opened fire with a Kalashnikov assault rifle on the armoured car hitting it with a dozen armour-piercing rounds. Several actually managed to pierce the hull armour wounding the driver, who swerved the vehicle into a wall at 50mph, it thudded and bounced off rolling over before exploding in a ball of orange fire as the gas tank went up. The Paki re-loaded and screamed invoking Allah at his victory over the English army fascists. His celebration was short lived, the other two cars opened fire with their 30mm guns in a steady hail of explosive death sieving the old car and blowing the Paki into bits with his band of merry men all into a pile of arms and legs and body parts, one who ran but was caught in the legs with a shell. He fell to the floor and bled madly as his seconds ticked away to death. One of the armoured cars slowly approached the grisly scene, covering it with the turret machine gun as the Officer dismounted, pistol in his hand, to carefully advance to the bloody scene. Five were obviously dead; blood ran down into the gutter as no6 cried silently knowing his fate. He was questioned quietly by the officer, his cocked gun reinforcing his questions making the dying Asian answer in broken English –

“We wanted to take over the town, for over thirty years we’ve been treated like shit.”

“The freedom fighters were our enemies as well as yours.”

“A young girl murdered three of my cousin brothers, she worked at the hospital. She showed no mercy.”

“We knew they had secret dangerous arms, we saw them hit your army.”

“There are some alive, hiding, we know where they are.”

“There’s a secret arms cache, we know the area but not which garage it’s in. We can show you, it’s on Ivory Way, St Mary’s estate.”

“We want to join forces with you, help…”

Suddenly the Paki man died mid sentence his blood loss and shock ending his life, the English army officer swore and examined the dead – nothing much but a pistol and four bullets and the old Kalashnikov with a few remaining armour piercing bullets. These would be examined by the army intelligence to see where they came from, reaching into his army jacket the officer got his comms fob and data burst the recorded answers back to base and to Captain Cook in the command howitzer, adding his own observations on the battle, futile bravery of the Pakis and the gun with armour piercing bullets that killed his armoured car, which burned steadily with exploding ammo and fuel. A total loss. Returning to his vehicle they slowly drove to the area where the garages were located, several 155mm shells had smashed here and there into the box like structures in the first battle. Most garages had doors partly open or none at all. Where was the lock up? Which one? Was it intact and made to look derelict? Soldiers emerged from an APC to check each one for evidence of use, for weapons or any incriminating evidence. All wore body armour and plastic face visors. Six garages were found with closed doors, five were empty or contained old abandoned cars, number six in the last block was the one, the lock up with weapons and illegal goods. This was a gold mine.

Using hand held x-ray scanners the soldiers were able to view through the heavy wooden door; this was a disguise, backed up by an alloy door for strength. An officer with a scanner swore and called to his comrades, “Here, this is the one! The lock up with the weapons.”

He radioed through to HQ and to Cocksucker, logging the co-ordinates as he decided what to do? Do they open the door; go through the roof or through the wall of the neighbouring garage? It would be booby trapped in a dozen ways, up to a ton of explosives and arms were in there wired to blow. On his screen he viewed boxes of guns, warheads, grenades, ammo, supplies, explosives, moonshine in bottles and much more in x-ray vision. Small round grenades showed in each corner, on top, in front and inside most boxes. Wires led from the door to a sensor of some kind to a block of explosives and a box of grenades. If the door was opened this went off setting off the main charge, blast shock waves doing the rest from grenades to hell and back – boom! What to do? To open it would be like blowing your brains out, destroying everything. An artillery strike was the order of the day. Data was beamed back to Cocksucker and to base of the x-ray images of the garage and arms within, returning to the vehicles they moved out as the order came through to set down a barrage to destroy the arms and weapons. A mile distance would provide ample safety as radar guided shells thundered in five miles distant, everyone waited in anticipation to view this. Shells roared over in six seconds, the first hitting the road twenty yards short to dig a fifteen yard crater, a second hit the next door garage blowing in the walls of the lock up in a cloud of smoke. A direct hit came through the roof with the force of God; it set off the grenades and main charge and everything else sending debris 200yards like confetti. Then the surprise detonated in a flash like the sun, the Devil smiled as everything within two miles was vaporised, reduced to nothing. A nuclear bomb of a mere 20kilotons detonated, a suitcase bomb John acquired from Scottish freedom fighters in one of the dodgiest deals in history. No one knew where they got it, this device was to be used on the main English army base in a future operation. It killed soldiers anyhow in the armoured cars and APCs, this force in the town centre being totally destroyed along with everything else there. Not even the French managed to do this to the town, the howitzers survived each rocking on its tracks as the blast wave roared over them. Such hardened vehicles would survive all but a direct hit, Captain Alun Cook was furious in the lead command howitzer…

He had a suntan with mild radiation exposure due to the closeness of the nuclear blast, his forward deployed forces ceased to exist along with Oldham as it was before. Several thousand people died in the blast, those living in the area even after the army attack and shelling. They had nowhere else to go except the after life now. Blast waves swiftly flew up to eight miles removing roof tiles, cracking walls and knocking anyone outdoors onto their ass at maximum range. Closer in devastation was total, a smaller version of what the French did in 2013 with their bigger weapons. Any remaining freedom fighters were now dead, indirectly solving the problem of insurrection, illegal arms and lawlessness in Oldham.

Many more fighters remained in other English towns, waiting for the coming battle, events in Oldham were watched closely with news travelling by word of mouth, it resonated out like ripples on a pond. Rochdale war vets prepared for action, Red and John worked with them on plans to hit the base to destroy it, rescue Sarah if she was alive, kill as many soldiers as possible and escape alive. No mercy, none at all. Cocksucker anticipated this, he moved against other towns sending his forces to attack Warrington, Ashton, Salford, Manchester and Rochdale. Would the Rochdale vets be caught like the Oldham fighters or were they on their way to attack even now? Right now Captain Alun Cook had a nice plan for Sarah…

Sarah was blindfolded, taken from her cell to the command centre to see a special video, made to sit on a chair under gun point facing a huge LCD monitor, static coursed over the screen. Cocksucker appeared smiling his sly smile staring at Sarah, “I have something for you to see. You’ll like this.”

He pointed the remote and a video feed played on the screen blurry, out of focus and shaky. A battle showed explosions, smoke from burning fires, drifting mist (gas) and soldiers doing unspeakable crimes. Close up shots of English soldiers wearing

respirators moving past dead and unconscious people lying on the ground, they carried rifles with wicked bayonets on the end, thrusting these into defenceless people, several shifted or screamed in death audible over the shelling and gunfire. A squad of soldiers moved quickly between the bodies, selecting unconscious ones for interrogation at random. The scene cut and a new one appeared with more bodies on the ground, soldiers inspected them, shook their heads – dead. They still bayoneted them though, old habits die-hard, Sarah recognised Lee and Gun Barrel’s bodies. She screamed in pure anger and went for Cocksucker but her cuffs held her in place on the chair.

“Now you know Sarah. Two of your friends are dead. You’re our prisoner, soon to be shot after we question you further. We’ll get the others sooner than you think.”

“Fuck you! Fuck you and your fuckin’ army! You should be dead now,” she cried.

“Nice try with the nuke. As you can see, I’m fine. Next time you must try harder. Thanks for the idea, I’m sure you’d like to fuck my army,” he retorted.

It was celebration time; this was Captain Cocksucker’s idea for his men to have a festive event, his revenge on Sarah for the nuke trick that cost him dearly. Fifty good men and half a dozen vehicles lost. A room was set-aside for the party, large enough to hold the entire garrison of 300 men, in the vehicle garage it was a tight fit but that’s how he liked it. Vehicles were moved onto the parade ground, chairs brought in for seating, a military band hastily put together to do songs titled “Fuck me all at once”, “I’ll be as slack as a whore” and “All at once boys”. On the question of protection? Not guns or soldiers but Durex, hundreds were needed so his soldiers wouldn’t complain of a sloppy pussy. Cocksucker knew Sarah’s pussy very well now, that she had no STDs but he wanted it done professionally. His room was sorted, the band was ready, food and beer provided by top English army chefs – the favourite of chicken tikka, kebabs, chips and gravy, marmite sandwiches, Lancashire hotpot and Eccles cakes. Beer was brand new English army beer made just for them, not one bottle was out of date, soldiers filed into the hall in an orderly manner wearing shirtsleeves with combat trousers. Sarah was brought in after being ordered to shower personally administrated by Cocksucker, she under gunpoint from two soldiers. He spent extra time cleaning her pussy. She was given a nice little red number to wear showing plenty of leg to her ass, low cut showing ample cleavage and shoulders, her long brown hair was neatly tied back to give a real lady like look, very sexy. She didn’t need underwear, wore a pair of stiletto shoes, which she struggled to walk in and forced to hold Cocksucker’s hand two armed troops accompanied them onto the stage. He wore his famous pink summers dress which was daringly short, all his men cheered and stood to clap, the noise filling the huge building like a concert encore from back in the day.

Sarah saw all of the men, thinking what the fuck? Cocksucker reassured her, this was a social event and she was the leisure centre to be used by his troops, she would make love to them all, over 300 in total. She did say fuck you before after all. She didn’t believe this cunts cunningness, seeing all this changed that view, she had no doubt at all Cocksucker was serious of sexually erotic subterfuge. Why shoot her for the nuke trick when everyone could fuck her instead? This was the 21^st century, not the dark ages.

Cocksucker led Sarah to a massive super king size bed 7ft by 7ft, here he would fuck her while a soldier filmed the event for posterity, he went first as he was in charge. She climbed onto the bed, her skirt rising up past her thighs to her ass and pussy, Cocksucker got his cock out and slowly made love to Sarah, his men again cheered and clapped. Sarah moved with his rhythm, loving it, to show them she enjoyed every thrust, by this mindset she told them she couldn’t be broken, that it was only sex. She had fucked 4 men before, what was an extra 300? She was a willing participant in this macabre act; the band played “Lets all fuck together” as Cocksucker’s cock thrust in and out of Sarah’s nice pussy. She moved with him in perfect timing coming as he did, he didn’t stop but continued for ten more minutes coming a second time. Withdrawing he removed his condom throwing it into the crowd, signalling for the second soldier to mount Sarah. A line of anxious randy men formed, bulges showed in their trousers. Cocksucker loved it, he drank it all in, his pink dress adding to the gaiety of the event, he wore his size ten English army boots with long black Mia socks stolen from Albanian communist/socialist military elements in 1996 but no tights, an odd combination. Sarah fucked the soldiers on her back now and again sitting up for a drink of beer, she was happy this wasn’t too bad. Her pussy was a bit sore by the time she reached the halfway mark; a soldier gave her some Lube 2000 and antiseptic cream for redness and soreness. She would do the full 300 or it was bullet time, in the back of her shapely head, slowly but surely she did it, making love to a full army base of tough soldiers. She made love to 304; she was the girl who fucked the English army. In her head she knew she would really fuck them all later, she promised herself this. Rising up from the bed she smiled and waved before collapsing to oblivion.

In the days following the event where Sarah was raped she was allowed three days to recover, fed and watered well, bathed and allowed to regain her strength, all under supervision of Captain Alun Cook. On the fourth day she was interrogated on freedom fighter secrets, set up, networks, on the structure during the civil war with Wales and Scotland, how many members were alive, the number willing to fight and what training and weapons they had. From her questions Sarah guessed something big was going to happen if not already, was Oldham a blue print for other strong holds? She knew it was. She wasn’t questioned under the truth drug at first; she cunningly lied giving answers on fighter strength when it was weakness and vice versa. Cocksucker believed her at first but he became suspicious when Sarah slipped up, one time, on the strength of fighters in Ashton. The English army had attacked and taken this town much like Oldham wiping out fifty or so freedom fighters present for only three dead of their own. Sarah was injected with more truth serum, Cocksucker ranted and raved, he wouldn’t tolerate liars, he would get the truth this time, then he would rape her and shoot her himself. She talked in a rambling half dead voice, mental collapse held at bay by mind-altering drugs, secrets flowing like red wine in desert sand. One little problem from before? How had she not told of the nuke? Did she know it was there? Was she stronger than the drugs to hide it? No, she never knew of it, Cocksucker knew for a fact trusting his judgement in such situations. He demanded to know where her remaining comrades in arms where who escaped from the attack, where they would go? To Rochdale? It was the nearest large town out of the English army attack lines, the next to be attacked when sufficient troop numbers were free to be moved up. He would kill them with his own bare hands, after torturing them; he wanted to know where the nuke came from. He wanted his own for attacking the Scots, then the Welsh. He wanted to be Commander of the Mainland; he would be as ruthless as Adolf Hitler and as powerful as God. Unless someone stopped him…

Sarah was left alone in her drugged up state with a single soldier, she had undergone twelve hours of none stop questioning under interrogation, yielding many secrets and answers. Captain Cook retired to his quarters satisfied with the result, he would sleep, let Sarah rest and then rape her and kill her. Her answers were digested by the intelligence section to be used in the coming battle plans on other towns, as her previous info had been to devastating affect. Her body was weak from the pentathol in her system but it was wearing off, her mind briefly bottomed out in a period of lucidity, she had to act now before swirls of surrealness returned. Asking to take a piss, she made eye contact with the young soldier on guard, smiling and using her charm and good looks. He was visibly nervous but his mates had fucked her, he was in sickbay when the party was on, he missed the event. But he was with her now and wanted a bit of her. She knew this; he undid her restraints to allow her to piss in a bucket by the corner, while he unbuckled his trousers getting his erect cock out. Sarah finished her piss, moved into position to blow him off. His dick tasted salty, she licked the end tasting cum already, was he a premy? She licked the end, tickled his balls and acted – in one bite she sank her teeth into his hard dick. He screamed and fell backwards, she followed increasing the pressure, which relaxed, his cock came clean away in her mouth and Sarah had bitten his cock off. Blood jetted everywhere mixed in with urine and white sperm, she spat his bloody shaft from her mouth, it thudded to the floor in a shower of blood. The soldier looked at her with wide eyes and fell unconscious next to his severed dick. Sarah wiped her bloody face on his uniform.

Frisking his body Sarah found his pistol and two spare mags of ammo; she pocketed these in her army style prison fatigues. She staggered into the wall as the drugs relapsed, waiting for it to pass, shaking her head. She had to get out, escape somehow, anyway she could or she would shoot herself dead, she never wanted to be raped or drugged up again. She was on her own, so alone. Her only friend was the gun and bullets. Opening the door she crept outside after checking it was clear, keeping to the left with the gun in her hand safety off. She would kill anyone who crossed her path. She didn’t know where she was as she was blindfolded when she was taken from her cell, a precaution that gave her no bearings at all. She hurried down the corridor passing unmarked doors, not risking seeing what was inside, nothing or fifty armed soldiers? Or even him, Cocksucker? She wanted to kill him, she really did. She decided what to do. They would look everywhere when her escape was noticed, she could try to hide and lie low and she needed rest after the interrogation with the horrible mind drugs. She briefly had surprise now but how long for? She was in no state to start a war but she had a chance right now to do something, what? Coming down to the power plant room (marked on the door) she made a decision – a few bullets in here would do something, trying the door she was amazed that it opened, in the base it was safe from any enemy, except one from within. Silently closing the door she looked around, seeing banks of huge back up reserve batteries, a type of power plant providing the base electricity. How was it powered, nuclear? Or gas or fuck knows? Then she saw it, some kind of silver spinning gyroscope like thing behind a glass screen, she didn’t recognise it guessing it was a new technology? Without hesitating she raised the pistol and fired three shots into the glass, ready for the ricocheted slugs if the glass was armoured. It wasn’t, the bullets pierced like it wasn’t there hitting the middle spinning silver wheel knocking it out of alignment, bringing on a keening noise which made her ears ring. Warning lights on a panel lit up next to the odd equipment. She fired the rest of her magazine, eleven bullets at the gyroscope like device, smashing it beyond recognition, sending bits flying like shrapnel this way and that. The centrifugal force spun them away from Sarah or she would have been killed as it bounced from the walls like bullets. Re-loading she moved over to the batteries, wondering if her gun would fuck them up, one way to find out! She had two mags each of 14 bullets, twenty-eight in all. There was around a dozen large batteries, she fired two bullets into the first one leaving neat round entry holes but nothing else. If only she had a few grenades! Then gas started to leak from the broken cells. She hurried to fire into the other batteries before the gas overcame her, she remembered the gas attack with mind numbing fear and her clip was empty. She inserted the last one firing into the batteries, counting the number of shots but leaving one bullet for herself in case of capture. The fist battery she hit was arcing now, gas seeping from it could explode, she left the room as the lights dimmed and failed completely. Her actions had worked! Emergency lights powered on, on their own small batteries. She ran down the corridor looking for a door to take her outside, suddenly the arcing batteries ignited the gas in a huge roar, an explosion shook the very floor sending shockwaves down the corridor throwing Sarah into the wall. Smoke rolled down to blur her vision; she had to get out now! There, a door! With a window in it outside. She sprinted for it, as two soldiers came round the corner running into Sarah, each as surprised as she was. She fired her remaining bullet into the face of one, he fell dead, the other she hit in the face pistol whipping with the empty gun, he backed away and dizzily hurried from her. Desperately wanting to stop him she threw the empty gun after him, it banged off the wall, quickly looking down she saw the answer, she grabbed the machine pistol from the dead soldier, pressed the trigger – nothing! Safety was on, clicking it off, she fired again, on full auto hitting the running soldier in the legs, stitching her fire up his back before the mag was empty. She threw the gun down and opened the door it wasn’t locked. She looked around seeing chaos as soldiers panicked as the batteries exploded setting the complex on fire, men with extinguishers covered by others with guns ran to battle the flames.

She needed to create a bigger signal that she was alive, how to do this? She was tired, her body and mind were fighting staying awake, wanted sleep. Her bleary eyes saw something, on the roof were signal rockets, for use if the radio gear failed, the rockets had long range and could carry an old skool letter to be retrieved and read by whoever it was meant for. Sarah ran across the yard, to a ladder on the wall, which led up to the rockets. Grabbing the handle she awkwardly climbed, feeling drunk due to the sodium pentathol in her body. Taking her time she made it up the twenty-foot ladder to the rockets, she wasted no time in firing them, pushing a single red button by each rocket to ignite and send them on their way. This was a simple system not reliant on a central control room or computers, systems that could be destroyed or captured. She didn’t aim, align, check settings or even load a message into the rockets, she sent them on their way, hoping against hope that someone would see them and help her, she watched the four foot blue rockets streak into the grey sky, a desperate gamble to be saved. If not she was doomed…

Chapter6 She approaches

She walked over the mountains down from the north of the landmass, three quarters of her journey was over high ground above one thousand feet through weather that would kill a normal person. Snow fell steadily reducing visibility to ten metres when the freezing fog descended covering the barren moor land in white and grey contrasts from Her Mother’s womb, form where she descended just before. She belonged to the land, it to her in the wheel of life, a never-ending cycle of birth and death incarnate. Stepping over rough shaped rocks in a small sunken stream, she headed downwards following the watercourse to lower levels. Ice formed in pools striating the water surface in glittering artwork that no other eyes saw or would ever appreciate.

Her dress was unsuitable for the weather and altitude, a multicoloured jacket figure hugging down to her trim narrow waste made of rough woven material resembling dyed goat hair, a long brown skirt made of velvet soaked and frozen like rock, size 6 black boots of tough punishment. Under her jacket a silk white blouse of such pure material that it was almost transparent over which a black jumper of thick black hair from a black longhaired Alsatian dog. Once her faithful travelling companion till mortal age took the animal cruelly from her, she still mourned her loss but fully understood nothing was permanent, forever. Around her delicate neck hung a circle of roughly beaten pure silver with a pentagram star on the facing side, a snake on the reverse. Her beautiful shoulder length hair was matted with rain, ice and snowflakes, frozen as the wind blew a few remaining strands past her clear green meadowful eyes. She missed nothing and knew everything, yet she was modest in her views and never boastful of her experience or her roots. Her journey was one of healing and of forgiveness; of the gift of insight and knowledge to a select few who would help spin the world away from darkness that had claimed so many lives and wrought so much destruction. Through Scotland she had slowly wandered travelling so very slowly often facing hostility and unkindness from the rough wild people she encountered, they remembered her though. A reaction was something positive; this built togetherness, a common understanding and forgiveness and reconciliation. Two individuals she met helped change part of the path into the light and of unconditional love and forgiveness, on its own it wasn’t enough, she desperately had to find two more people who a higher power had chosen to work with her, as before to stop this madness. After that to Wales, then to France to sort this mess mankind had created out, if she failed the world was doomed to death and darkness in the next cycle. The Devil was close at hand in all manner of affairs, recent events had proved that, of which she knew and understood more than those taking part.

Over her left shoulder she carried a handmade bag containing her possessions, hers alone, the key to channelling her power when the time was right, not until. One thing she did remove from her bag was a leather water bottle from which she drank the last of the contents. Stopping by a frozen pool she looked at the ice before breaking it with her boot heel, water flooded out of the hole becoming sluggish immediately, she knelt and filled her bottle with no problem. Water seemed to flow freely into it, she stood to drink almost the full contents, refilled it again and continued on her journey. She removed some damp bread from her pocket eating it in thirty seconds, smiling at the taste of it, her own skills provided for her. She was a very resourceful young lady of many talents, of uncertain age but some secrets are just that – secret. Her Mother was much older than her but she never worried on this, with age comes responsibility and experience, more than equal to anything she had met up to now and the future? Evil wanted to claim her as its own, to destroy her if not but she didn’t worry, she was very aware and considered everything, acted on some things. She followed the winding stream that cut through three metre beds of peat revealing rocks and pebbles on its bed, age old with erosion on the north Pennines harried by unusually bad weather. Was her enemy trying to stop her now? She laughed aloud mocking the darkness with her light and good heart, invincible. Her eyes followed her path seeing nothing but her scene in guttural light, cut by snowflakes and mist like fog, a pretty site really. Nothing was visible over the steep streamsides.

She came onto the area where it happened only a few days before, a battle of such ferocity that nothing survived. She knew various groups of people fought one another, to kill or take over or for fun, this small village was called Greenfield, situated further down the valley she walked down from the snowy hills. Looking up she saw snow filled peaks high above her, so separate from the death on the streets here amongst the stone houses and narrow streets. A block of houses slowly burned in the rain, smoke wafting down the valley driven by the wind, bodies lay on the street half decomposed by nature and animals. She stopped for minutes taking in the scene, skinny half starved people now dead in the gutter, hands tied behind their backs, no defence. Yards down the road a smoke blackened vehicle with a gun on the back, burnt corpses still manning it even now, English army massacre for what she knew. Reasons didn’t matter only death did this had to stop. Here people had fought bitterly and this was the result, what would the bigger towns and cities be like? She had to be ready for anything, prepare her mind. Stopping she meditated for an hour by a small spring next to a war memorial, enjoying the solace and tranquillity, asking her Mother to heal this wounded spot and forgive the souls which were trapped here earthbound in shock from violent death and war. Her eyes saw everything in her mind, emotions coursed through her agile mind from a place above her and so very distant yet not far at all, positivity came to this barren grey village. Lost lives would never be saved but here she stopped the Devil walking the earth more than momentarily. Small victories counted but turning the living even more, a world was no good with nobody living in it, no matter how imperfect it was. Life counted more than everything else, she could do it, would do it or darkness would fall absolute taking her as a slave to the Devil. He would rape her body, steal her magic and bind her to Him for eternity defeating her and her cycle of light to damnation. Darkness had to exist in equal amounts to light but not smother it, kill it, nor would light be allowed to only exist, a balance was needed. Finished, she left the village slowly walking down the single road through the thinning rain as blue sky briefly made an appearance. After an hour of walking she saw a man on his own, she cautiously approached him as he sat on a large stone by the side of the road. Stopping before him she asked permission to join him, to sit by his side, he nodded not saying a word, as she sat. She picked up his emotions and thoughts not wanting to intrude but needing to know just enough so she would be able to engage in conversation without scaring him to death. When he talked it startled her but she smiled honestly at his openness and warmth after enduring recent actions here, three days ago viewing them from this very spot. He hadn’t moved at all since then, not eaten or drank. She offered him some water and the last of her bread she had freshly made earlier, he accepted thanking her through full mouthfuls. She wished she had more but she didn’t, that didn’t stop her making some right there and then before the man, his needs were great she realised. As she prepared her small fire from wood she carried, lighting it with smaller bits she rubbed together catching on wool kindling from a leather pouch, in a small hearth of stones from the side of the road, the man talked. He rambled on about the English army coming to town looking for enemy freedom fighters, a list of so-called traitors and trouble causers. When no one helped they forcibly took men of fighting age and shot them along with selected family members, it wasn’t all one sided though. A mother of one of the boys fought back setting on fire one of the military vehicles with a firebomb. She was shot to death soon after, the man here was left as a witness to tell others what happened, fear was the best weapon by far than bullets and soldiers. This was three days ago; he was nearly dead from thirst and had lost nearly a stone through not eating, stress and worry. Preparing the ingredients she soon had a rough loaf being prepared, she left it to cook as she listened to the story of hell from the man, as the bread rose she talked to him.

“I see that you are deeply troubled by seeing what happened here by the army doing evil deeds, the work of the Devil. They are wrong to do that, no matter how right they may think they are. Only understanding and forgiveness will ever set the path for the end of this mess, this dark path. Here, take this bread and water, it’s all I have but it will help you. I must go now. Remember, look after yourself and tell others you see that I’m here. Everything will be all right, this I promise you. My name is Juniper’s Daughter,” Juniper’s Daughter slowly, calmly reassured the man. Putting out her fire she stood to leave, smiling as she did so. A feeling of calm and hope filled the once lost man. Then she was gone.

Onto a bigger town the outskirts of which were boarded up or abandoned, along a road leading to a hill, she stopped and gazed around her to the snow covered hills rising to mountains behind them. Out to the houses along over the valley before her to the town past this, all different places of the same town with so many different names and still with people living there, folk who had endured so much. In the distance she noticed something very odd that sent shock waves through her soul, paused her breath making her silently say “No!”, many miles distant a hideous sight greeted her. She had seen this before but this was still fresh, fires slowly burnt themselves out on anything combustible left after the initial blast. Smoke hung over the distant town centre of Oldham some six or seven miles distant, flickering fires could be seen amongst the wasteland of what was once a town. A huge distant cloud faintly resembling a mushroom cloud was just about visible, remnants of the event carrying fallout to kill more in a hideous radiological death. Immediately she knew what this was, what it stood for, what had happened. She had to get there now; there was only one way to do it – magic! Opening her bag she got her secret magic crystal, the key to her power in so many ways. Holding it out in front of her at arms length she chanted incoherent incantations, age old with meaning only known to herself and her mother. With a whip crack and rush of wind Juniper’s Daughter was carried through the very air, her power compressing and changing it so she was there in seconds. Slightly dizzy and disorientated she opened her eyes to see a ruined townscape beneath her as she held her arms out to land on the scorched earth amidst nuclear devastation. She wanted to cry at the loss of life and destruction but she channelled her energies into bringing positivity here, slighting the Devil’s hand and making way for her Mother’s influence to nourish and redeem her land again, away from the nuclear poisons. Her crystal glowed as she brought down magic around her, incantations away dear witch girl! Her small spell done she walked over the rubble of a block of houses climbing over black bricks and rubble and unidentifiable things, bits of skeletons sticking out of some bricks, no flesh just white bone shaded in black from the fire. She picked up an arm bone and tossed it up into the air, catching it, looking at it, knowing that this was a person once. A tear ran down her cheek as she understood so clearly the loss and death at ground zero, again it had happened, she wasn’t quick enough to stop it, carefully she placed the bone back and said a short prayer:

“My great Earth Mother please forgive and heal the unfortunate people who perished here, on this spot before their natural time was here. They are lost souls now and need our guidance and unconditional love. Remove all evil from this place, let peace reign and keep the Devil at bay. So mote it be.”

In her mind numbers channelled out and down bringing her knowledge of the weapon used here, its destructive power, how many souls it killed and in what way each died – this was a fascinating capability of her unique brain but it did upset her so, yet it was her key to understanding everything, where the weapon came from, who put it where and how it was set off. She focused her mind and was calm for ten minutes, she found one person connected to the weapon but something troubled her, greatly. This person actually didn’t know about it before and now this person was greatly suffering due to the detonation and her connections to the people who actually got hold of the bomb in the first instant. Focusing harder, she knew one was dead from battle and his body now lost and that one was alive who was partly responsible for this crime. Yet she knew it wasn’t intended to be like this, events forced this to happen. Coming out of her trance, she opened her eyes and looked around, something grabbed her attention, what was it? Relaxing her vision and using a technique to see shadows and faint outlines, she located the distraction; it was a group of people on the other side of the town. Without hesitation she started to climb over the rubble fields, tripping and sliding over debris, silently cursing she got her crystal and used her quick time jump skill and was at their position, approaching from behind not to startle them. Seeing them she spoke, “Dear people, I know full well what has happened here and what you are going through. Soon you will leave this world and my Mother will great you, worry not, your souls will be saved and you will gain peace in the afterlife, not wonder here like so many killed by the blast will. People did evil deeds here, I have to stop this from happening again or the Devil will win and be master of this place, this country, this world. Please listen and believe me when I say this. Here, come to me, I will ease your suffering and help you pass over into the next world away from this place of evil and suffering.”

Juniper’s Daughter stood before the six people men and women of different ages all suffering hideously from radiation sickness this she couldn’t cure. She held out her hands and a gentle light shone forth emanating from her but from nowhere yet everywhere. As it reached its crescendo the people cried one last time and fell to the ground, at rest no longer in pain or weeping. She cried herself, hating this job but knowing there was no other way, none at all. She prayed to her Mother, silently this time to give her strength and guidance and protection, she felt so vulnerable and alone right now despite her special powers. The image of the six living dead people burned itself into her mind, joining all of the other horrific scenes she witnessed, the youngest girl affected her the most. She was a little younger than she with so much to live for, now she was gone like she never existed ripped away from the cursed world of man. Her haunted blue eyes held so much potential happiness and life; her falling skin and hair killed her beauty poisoned by radiation. Over thirty million other souls had perished this way, ninety million if France was included. Leaving this haunted town she walked to where the one partly responsible for this was, she was in need of help, Juniper’s Daughter knew and she had to help. She would be in danger of people doing the Devil’s work but it was a risk she had to take, she had achieved so much in Scotland so she had a chance here in ruined England where so much more suffering and death raped the land and the people.

She thought back when she was younger in her Mother’s garden on Crete, how she used to love venturing down into the tunnels of the Labyrinth to spy on the Minotaur. How the flowers grew around his forbidden garden in abundance that was mind numbing, nature left to grow wild and free, not growing in straight lines or in pots under control, not allowed to be free. Her Mother totally disapproved of this, she liked order and strictness but the way of man was of wildness, war and adventure. To put a box around the very essence of life and the soul was a crime, was why she came to the secret garden of the Minotaur to watch him tend it, gently cultivating the crops, flowers, herbs and weeds to grow and thrive. Did he know she was there? She didn’t think so but he never showed any sign of knowing so, if he did know she was left alone. One thought shot into her mind one day, he left alone to feel comfortable in his lair so she would feel safe, at home. If he moved against her would she still feel safe or would she fight this monster, half man and half bull? What if he wanted to fuck her when she was of age, if he wanted a baby Minotaur to continue his race, for he was the last? In this she was right…

It happened one day in the high summer, a series of earthquakes ripped through the secret garden killing several rare flowering trees, this upset our lady, made her cry. The Minotaur saw this, how she cried at the loss of his, her Mother’s, trees, he advanced upon her smiling and speaking gruffly in foreign tongue. It was the first time she ever heard him speak, his voice lulled her making her tired, sleepy. He picked her up in his arms and carried the dozing girl to his stone bed, gently laying her down, stood to watch her sleep for many minutes. Slowly undressed her seeing her young woman’s body just comes of age. He awfully large manhood became erect with a stunningly red end, he knelt down awkwardly to make love to her so she would carry his offspring and further his line, he was half bull, half man. He managed to insert his long penis up her tight vagina, carefully ripping her hymen taking her virginity, virgin blood flowing onto her white dress, onto the summer stone. Slowly he made love to her, she moaned at the ripping of flesh as he was her first, he took her innocence by malevolence, making love to her ravishing her beautiful vagina. After his act he watched her slowly awake, she saw him and screamed in total terror, she knew what he had done, felt his wetness on her most intimate bits. She got up and ran out of the labyrinth, knowing the way by her sixth sense, home to her Mother. She told her Mother everything, how she went to the secret garden to see the plants, to watch the Minotaur work, at how her innocence was stolen. Her Mother came up with a plan, to send a boy in to kill the Minotaur and gain revenge on his evil wicked ways.

On a rare rainy day the boy entered the labyrinth with a ball of string, he unwound this to find his way, carried a dagger for the wicked act of slaying. She came with him to act as bait, three months pregnant with the bastard child of the Minotaur, slowly into the depths they crept coming across the sleeping giant creature on his stone slab. The boy advanced to the beast, tapped him on the shoulder so he opened his eyes, thrust the knife into his heart ripping the blade upwards to kill the Minotaur. Looking on in utter disbelief she cried aloud as their eyes locked, his dying view on her belly and his child, his bridge to the next generation. As the Minotaur fell dead onto his slab the boy carried out his second act, he walked up to the girl and stabbed her in the belly killing the three-month-old baby. And the mother, who fell to the earth crying incoherently as the earth shook in a violent earthquake, bringing down the roof shaking the walls and crushing the boy under a huge stone pillar. His knife clattered top the stone tiles. The garden was uprooted by the quake as a volcano blew wiping out the ancient Cretan civilisation, sending it into the history books and the legend of the Minotaur into fable. Her Mother forgive her but promised never again to let her daughter be taken advantage of, she would help the world, not be a victim of it…

She could have used her time trick to be there immediately but she preferred walking the thirty miles because there was something about the natural labour of walking, she wanted to be ready for her event. She felt that she was needed but that no harm would come to the one she needed to befriend; she whispered incantations under her breath, sending them out into the world. She would protect her precious child until she was ready to meet her. She knew it was a “she” due to the feminine fear coming out of the area of interest, this one had done something to make trouble for those wanting to hurt her, it looked like she wanted to escape. Focusing her mind she sent out a white magic circle of protection to surround the most important prisoner in the place of evil, the dreaded English army base controlled by Captain Alun Cook. When she tried to focus her powers of vision onto him she had to stop, a wall of pure evil threatened to engulf her, leaving her breathless and dizzy. This was due to all the murders, rapes, crimes, war action and a hundred other atrocities the leader of men had committed, Juniper’s Daughter had seen first hand his most recent crimes. She had to stop this evil; she needed the lost girl to help and one other to complete the circle, if he survived. Something in her head told her the girl wasn’t pure, that she was a real warrior and had carried out similar actions to the evil leader but her actions were not governed by evil intent. Events of the time led up to bitter confused equally evil act but it she wasn’t possessed by evil. That was the difference. It could be too late; she could have been hurt too badly to help, if this was the case and if the other helper was dead, then evil would prevail. Darkness would rule the land and the evil leader would rape, kill and murder till he was the ultimate master of the whole island. And then? He was the Devil in disguise walking the land doing whatever he pleased. He was responsible for the deaths of thousands already in his assaults on the towns rooting out the freedom fighters. Before they kept the balance but not the scales tilted to the night side of the eternal night of darkness, it wasn’t time for that, not yet. The cycle of light still had to play out its path across the heavens, the cosmos, in peoples’ souls, in the world.

Something made her look up, past the hazy smoke that drifted past clogging the air. Something shiny up above, moving at great speed like a glint on a stone skipping across a pond. What was it? It arced down not near the witch but out of sight behind the bank of smoke, landing with a distant thud and a faint flash. In her mind something came to the surface – this was from the girl, her energy radiated out from the thing, whatever it was. It sent out fear and hope, danger and survival. Then she heard gunfire and saw distant blue tracer fire lazily arcing up into the sky. It had worked! Sarah’s distress firing of the communication rockets had been spotted; help would be on the way. Would the witch still be needed?

She was young once, walking in step before a huge monstrous sight, under the shadow of something huge. A pyramid. She saw it built, knew the secret of how. By help from alien beings who came from the Dog Star in shiny silver craft with great skills and technology. Able to lift hundred ton stone blocks with their smaller atmosphere craft using carefully directed gravity field, guided into place by hand, certainly not cut, lifted or pulled by hand. Being the daughter of her Mother she had certain rights, one allowed her to take a ride in the silver saucer that was being used, piloted by a male alien pilot. He let her pilot it but after she nearly crashed, women drivers joke aside, she sat back and enjoyed the ride. Her role in Egypt was of High Priestess and Goddess of the Earth, she was worshipped but did much more than be a figure head – she healed, cast protection spells, invoked her Mother to bring good harvest, no storms, regularly held divination events to foretell important events and much more. She was a Goddesshead, a living Goddess embodying her Mother and all she stood for to guide the next generation. When the work building pyramids ended she was offered absolute rule over Egypt but refused it, instead she just disappeared. Rumours of the theft of a shiny disc like craft flew back and forth but only Juniper’s Daughter knew the truth, she fucked ragged an alien, almost bore his child but due to incompatible genes she miscarried. Don’t ever tell her Mother about this, it would be bad enough with the Minotaur fifteen hundred plus years later. She had to leave Egypt due to the affair with the alien spaceship pilot, he had a big rocket and knew how to use it, and being only sixteen she was rather inexperienced so she went undercover for the next few hundred years. Gaining experience quickly with earthbound men (and some women) she learned the finer side of bedroom matters, got rough when she needed to. She used her magic power to not get pregnant, she thought she knew her Mother wouldn’t approve but she never wanted to put it to the test. That would come later. Her legacy lived on in Egypt right through to modern times by the black cat icons, loosely based on her nighttime self. Many tourists to Egypt bought these and never realised the connection, no one alive knew the connection with shiny flying discs, until they found the one that Juniper’s Daughter hid in the eighth chamber in the Great Pyramid at Giza. She wanted to tell the world but her Mother strictly warned her not to unleash advanced technology before silly Humankind was ready for it, it could destroy everything not save it, she was fun loving but not the Devil. She worked for the good of the world, of the balance of light. Her dark side was deep and dangerous though, only used one time, she promised never again, at least until she needed the craft again…

One night long ago a man was drowning, almost at the shore but caught in the rip tide, dragging down, slowly killing him. He wouldn’t last long, passing out he started to drown. He never believed in any God or higher power, he slipped beneath the waves with no prayer for help, saving or mercy, you live, you die, simple. Or was it? A stunningly naked young woman waded into the shallows striving to reach the man who was swept out to deep water; she swam out to rescue him. She knew he had a body to die for but she wanted to save him, if her Mother let her, didn’t want him for herself. She reached his limp hand, grabbed hold of it and slowly swam in long steady strokes heading for the shore, away from danger and death. It took her ten long minutes to struggle one hundred yards to the gently sloping golden sand, she flopped down absolutely fucked, the man would die soon unless she resuscitated him. Swearing, she did this and he coughed up salt water and a gut full of puke, coughing in dizziness of being alive not wondering how or why or was it a dream? Then he saw his saviour, his eyes opened and he tried to speak, she placed her finger gently on his lips hushing him. In his head he couldn’t believe how beautiful she was. She noticed this, she sent it to his head, no not now, later when you’re well we can make love, my love will heal you, you can take my virginity and my innocence.

Over the next three weeks she nursed the exhausted lad back to health using her skills recently taught by her Mother, she had never cared for another person before, been responsible for their sole well being. She managed okay bringing the boy fresh water in freshly broken coconut shells, along with fresh fish she caught in the ocean with hand made nets. She cooked the fish on a small fire started by rubbing small bits of wood together, almost magic in the oldest survival skill of them all. He spoke a foreign language that she didn’t understand, a form of Polynesian but she understood his emotions and formed a strong empathic link with him. She ventured into his mind when he was asleep to learn more about him, where he was from and what he liked to do. Only when he awoke startled as if woken from a bad dream did Juniper’s Daughter stop this mind prowl. It was done without his permission but how could she ask if he spoke a foreign language? She knew enough anyhow. She wasn’t entirely happy with this new knowledge, this would cause problems later with severe consequences.

He looked at her regularly his eyes ravishing her perfect body for she never wore clothes she never needed to. He looked away when she met his gaze, a little ashamed but not embarrassed. Slowly she moved over to him, not to startle him or be too dominant, she smiled and reached out to hold his hand, he allowed this and together they embraced to kiss. His lips met hers and her tongue probed his, he tried to pull away, not sure of this, never kissed like this before, she soothed him and taught him. Soon he didn’t want it to end, he was a fast learner, her naked body was next to his tanned self and she removed his animal skin to reveal his erect penis, all ten inches of it. Moving position she kissed his body all over, down his sweat soaked chest enjoying his taste and smell to his most secret area. Licking the tip of his penis she swirled her tongue on it, low moans came from him, she took his cock into her mouth and sucked him dry, his cum exploding into her mouth. She swallowed it and continued to suck him, making him have a second orgasm as his body bucked and jerked like the innocent boy he was, until she mounted him to make love to him. He had made love five times before, she knew from his mind but only with simple girls, not with anyone like her, she was the best. She took his innocence as he took her virginity of her lovely serene body; she had lived one thousand times before so she was the font of all knowledge passed down through the generations. Still she had to get used to this body, she loved the tightness of her own vagina, she loved the way his huge cock broke her virginal hymen skin, the way it bled and how tight it felt. He loved her screams as her fanny got used to his huge member, how the blood lubricated it until his cum claimed her, she was his he was hers. She would never let him leave.

Later they slept, arm in arm intertwined like the loves they were. Moans came from his body, not of pleasure but of discomfort, something was wrong, this awoke her and she wanted to know what troubled her precious lover. This concerned her; she delicately intruded into his mind, like a waft of fresh air hardly noticeable in amongst the summer breeze. She was in for a shock; he dreamed of his lost love back on his island, he pined for her due to his love for her, yet he lusted for Juniper’s Daughter. She acted quickly, drawing her obsidian knife. Looking at him under the moonlight she started to cry, she got the job over with quickly, butchering her lover who didn’t love her, he struggled awake knowing what was happening before death claimed him and she was a murderess. Her Mother wasn’t happy, not with her daughter but her daughter’s actions of the union with a young man who she rescued from drowning, then seduced and killed after intruding on his mind to learn his secrets, which she couldn’t handle. Then she was pregnant with his child but she didn’t know this, her Mother did, as all time was linear to her, she sent a hurricane to swamp the island and drown her precious daughter for her crimes. Would she ever learn?

Chapter7 Rescue!

Three-dozen signal rockets whooshing into the sky created a storm at the base, Cocksucker shouted in a venomous rage ranting and raving at her escape and killing of several soldiers along with the wrecking of the base power supply. The base had no rockets left to warn other army bases that it was under attack; the random trajectories would likely miss any other base in range. Back up power was only enough to power up the emergency short-range radio, the Radio Operator sent out repeated signals but nothing came back. The power room was on fire, this spread to the vehicle park room full of lorries, armoured cars and APCs, two explosions concussed the base as two vehicles burned and blew up. The heavier tanks and howitzers were parked underground, Sarah saw the smoke from the roof and smiled, she recognised the building where the English army soldiers repeatedly raped her. That will give the cunts something to worry about! She hid under the empty bank of rocket launchers watching the scene below her, chaos reigned still but the fire was being put out, her plan had created a small amount of confusion but this was a base full of professional soldiers. Soon they would get her, three approached her with guns aimed in her direction and she looked behind her thinking how to escape. There was nothing to fight back with she had no gun. She saw the roof slope down to the air vent leading back into the building, she bent double and ran for it, bullets zoomed over her head as the men fired wildly. Sparks flew as rounds pinged from the rocket supports as Sarah jumped through the mesh air vent cover expecting to be hit, miraculously she made it, barging through the springy cover down a dark vertical shaft. She stopped next to a large fan, jamming her feet either side so not to be cut to pieces by the three-foot blades. It threatened to suck her into its midst and slice her to death, she fought the pull feeling so tired, actually wondering, is it worth it? Death would hurt but then no more shit. Mesmerised by the spinning fan, whop, whop, whop, she had to get a grip, the soldiers would soon be on the roof and would fire down to kill her, desperately she looked around, there must be a way out? There! A small access door, she rubbed her watering eyes and grabbed the single handle with her left hand, steadying with the right on the vertical shaft sides. Turning the handle ever so slowly, using all her strength, her old shoulder wound started to ache, more tension and it moved, bit-by-bit until the door opened inwards and she fell through into bright light from blackness. Just in time! Gunfire shot down the shaft peppering the walls and whining off the fan in a banshee of noise. She was safe for now but this game of cat and mouse was fucking her, she was drugged up, tired, hungry, thirsty and not thinking straight. Lying on her back she saw the open door and flinched as bullets bounced around the shaft, she kicked the door with her right foot and it shut with a bang. Bright light blinded her, she squinted wondering where she was, she was unfamiliar with the base and had no previous intel on the layout, no one had ever escaped alive from one of these places. Would she be the first?

Her vision became accustomed to the light she saw something. Guns, body armour, bullets, uniforms. She was in the guards’ armoury near the entrance of the base; beyond this room was the guardroom, past that freedom and outside. She quickly checked herself over as she stood up, she ached but adrenaline was filling her body now, a chance was provided now for escape or payback, she took it keeping one eye on the door as he took off her prison overalls. Selecting a medium size urban camouflage uniform she got dressed, then boots which were surprisingly snug – not hard leather, a Kevlar helmet, body armour for her upper body area, webbing to hold ammo and then the guns. She picked a pistol, checked it over, loaded it and got four full ammo clips, grabbed an English made machine pistol with two barrels fed by a single fat mag of two hundred rounds, slung a CAR-15 5.56mm carbine onto her shoulder along with six mags onto her webbing and finally got hold of a box of grenades. She used a bayonet to prize the lid off the box, taking out twelve round green hand grenades, each wrapped in greasy paper. Just like unwrapping a present! Or twelve of them. She thrust the grenades into the two side pockets of the webbing and now was ready, grabbing the bayonet just in case. Picking up four grenades from the box Sarah walked over to the door, opened it, pulled the pin and threw a grenade straight through, shut the door and braced herself for the blast crouching down by the wall. It shook the walls and flung the door from its hinges, she put the machine pistol into the doorway and fired twenty rounds blind, emergency lighting flickered low on battery power, muzzle flash illuminating the area. In a hiss the lights went out. This didn’t matter. Screams echoed forth, popping her head round she saw a scene from a horror film – three soldiers in a pile on the floor, all alive but missing arms and legs, these were around them but she didn’t know whose belonged to who. She burst out laughing tears streamed down her face in happiness revenge was hers. She walked up to the dying men, kicked them hard and spat on them, she didn’t kill them, wounded soldiers were more of a burden than dead ones, not that these would live much longer. Sarah covered the room and edged past them crippled men, she looked out of the cracked windows and soldiers were taking up position outside, ready for a standoff. She was ready for them, crouching down behind the table she selected three round bursts and held her machine pistol above her head, firing blind feeling the agile weapon buck in her hand. Hot brass shell cases clattered around her as she emptied the magazine firing three rounds from each barrel in turn, keeping the enemy soldiers heads down hopefully winging some of them. She had to be fast or they would bring in some artillery. As her mag emptied she got ready to sprint through the front door to freedom, now! Throwing the empty gun down she ran bent double, withdrew a grenade so she again had four and pulled the pins, tossing the grenades left and right, running like hell to escape the devastation. Bullets from a dozen guns hit the wall, kicked up concrete dust, smashed the remaining windows in the guard house, whizzed past her head as she dashed ten yards to a parked armoured car. She needed a diversion, this was it, pistol in one hand she grabbed two more grenades pulling the pins with her teeth. Rolling them under the car she ran to the outer wall that ran from the guard house to the main gate and hit the dirt, as the car exploded when the grenades went off. Bits of metal and armour plate careened everywhere, ammo started going off as more aimed bullets sought Sarah out, she returned fire with the pistol, emptying the clip, reloading and firing as she ran to the main gate. Tossing two more grenades at a group of soldiers coming to capture her, she again fired, reloaded and changed to her carbine. On single shot she shot her way through the entrance to escape the base of hell, the only ever person to do so. She tossed the rest of her grenades over the walls to put off any pursuit, then she ran like fuck, through the trees to gain time and distance. On the roads she would be dead within minutes. She needed to rest, her body was tired now, adrenaline wearing off, her limbs felt leaden, she pushed herself on. For three miles she ran then she had to rest, she looked for a place to go to ground, where, where, where? Another half mile stumbling on and she found it, an old abandoned Skoda car in the undergrowth. Perfect, she opened the door and climbed into the back seat, lying down using her carbine as a pillow, she was asleep in seconds. A strange woman appeared in her dreams, she was trying to say something but her words were all blurry. Dream images peppered her head in a rain of imagery of varying contrasts, light and dark all moving and convulsing together, at once in unseen unison. None of it made sense in her sleeping mind, the last vestiges of pentathol hung in synapses and cells deep within Sarah’s brain, reminder of the truth serum torture used to invade her mind for all of her secrets. She would have taken a bullet for them but she had been so vulnerable, later she would have her revenge. Eighteen long hours later Sarah woke up. She heard gunfire…

Red drove the trike at a steady sixty mph over the dilapidated road, watching for potholes and danger. John manned the left Browning machine gun, the right seat was taken up by two special gifts for the cunts in the English army – two medium range all use rocket launchers fixed in place and angled to fire up and arc down with the seekers on fragmentation mode for max damage. The rear seat was unmanned; no one would dare chase them after what they had planned. Following up behind was the armoured car driven by the Rochdale vet in a mission to rescue Sarah and hit the army; Varg, a Polish mercenary who fought in the Scottish civil war and in many other evil actions, completed his crew. His single eye stared out of a scared socket; in the other he fitted a red glass eye giving him an evil eye and a devil look. Crammed into the hull were four other men, all homosexual and cosy in this war express on the road to hell, armed to the teeth with four more rocket launchers welded to the turret – two either side. Nothing that took them on stood a chance.

It was chance, which led them down this path to the base, and to Sarah, Gizzy was watching the sky (his favourite hobby) and he saw one of the blue coloured signal rockets zoom down, out of the blue. He tracked the trajectory and drove the armoured car the mile or so to where it fell, in an open field in the middle of nowhere, retrieving the rocket with great difficulty by hand until he twigged and took a small trench spade from the car. Buried four feet down and all but squashed except the small cargo bit, the rocket wasn’t much to look at. He took it to their base and showed John and Red, John voiced, “Sarah,” and they set off to the base in the car and on the trike. They knew the way, the English army base was known all over the north of England from people being taken for questioning and from the deadly assault on the towns. Oldham had to be bypassed due to the nuke damage, roads were blocked and radiation levels were through the roof, an extra hour and half were added to the journey time but there was no choice. Nothing happened out of the ordinary but the site of Oldham destroyed brought home the danger now facing them all, as had the deaths of Lee and Gun Barrel, both were sorely missed. Army patrols in Rochdale found nothing relating to the war vets or John and Red; they were too well hidden in their secret base. Still two hundred civilians were killed in the attack there, not one talked or gave anything away.

John knew Sarah must have been alive to launch the rocket(s) even if she was dead now, revenge burned strong in lawless hearts, a toll had to be exacted from the English army. Only she would think of something like that, he considered it a ploy, a trick by Captain Cocksucker to lure them to the area to attack them but that dick was not this good. Yes battle experienced and a criminal with ruthless intent, not lateral thinking as Sarah, in past conversations if the worst happened it was agreed a signal of some sort would be sent by anyone captured if possible. This was it.

Down empty roads, past four battle scenes with dead civilians, empty shell cases, destroyed gun positions with dead freedom fighters, half a dozen dead soldiers, one burnt out Armoured Personnel Carrier and other detritus of war. Coming close to the base they ran into the first defences, soldiers hiding in a ditch with assault rifles who fired on the trike sending shots overhead due to the low profile. John fired the Browning in short bursts as Red opened the throttle accelerating from forty to sixty mph bearing down on the squad of four men. John saw his bullets kick up dirt around them, cut twigs and leaves from nearby trees, lessen the enemy firing as he hit one of them, trying to take careful aim was not possible so he held the trigger down sending fifty bullets at them. He hose piped them as the distance closed, bouncing over the uneven meadow coming to within ten yards of the English army men. One of them tried to stand with a pistol in his hand, he fired two shots, one went wild the other hit the handlebars and whined off into space. John sent a dozen rounds into the man as Red powered over their position at sixty five mph jumping the ditch catching the still standing wounded man on the head with the right back wheel. Blood and brains spattered everywhere as the dead trooper fell to the damp grass, joining his comrades in arms. Red and John were thrown about like rag dolls as the trike landed skidding as the wheels locked doing a one eighty, before Red controlled the demon machine whose engine protested in thousands of revs. Out of control he almost lost it, twenty mph seemed like 200 as the trike twitched like a dervish, finally stopping. Strapped in with five point harnesses the crew were shaken but not stirred, Red unstrapped checking the trike as John covered him, moving the gun around with well-trained eyes. Undamaged, Red smiled and nodded, “I built her good, I sure did.” He slowly walked over to the dead soldiers, his pistol in hand. He heard the armoured car pull up as he stepped into the hastily prepared position, searching for anything of use. Through each pocket he looked, curiously eying the dog tags around the necks, one had a bullet hole right through the middle – talk about a lucky shot! One carried a photo of his sweetheart a nice brunette with big breasts and a wicked smile Red pocketed this. He took spare pistol magazines for his own weapon, found four grenades on the dead men, wondering at why only one per soldier? A shortage? He spat on each corpse, got his cock out and pissed on them, fuck them! Part revenge for Gunny’s death. He picked up their assault rifles examining them with a careful eye, good weapons but a little outdated yet effective, he rammed each gun into the soil barrel first to make it unusable. Then he found it, a map case. Opening it he saw the base location (they knew this already), positions of defences around the base (such as this one), other stuff he didn’t understand in code and a cross marked with an “S”, what did this mean? Was it Sarah or a storeroom or something? Spitting again on the dead men Red swore, a wounded one would be good to get info from, he’d crush his testicles with his own fuckin’ hands. Walking over to John he showed him the map, then to the vets buttoned up in the car. Now it was straight to the base, by the front door commando style.

Captain Alun Cook was mad, his base was in chaos with no power just back up, several of his men were dead, a greater number badly wounded (he shot these himself, he understood Sarah’s little trick), weapons stolen and other damage. If any of the rockets fell near any enemy freedom fighters or war vets an attack/rescue would be mounted, for this he had to be ready. He sent squads of four men out to set up forward positions, these soldiers, forty in all were under armed to create the impression of bad leadership, a lack of weapons and an easy nut to crack. Hearing distant firing he knew his plan had worked, each squad was told to remain in position no matter what, if overrun they died to the last man and bullet. He would execute them if they returned with no results. Walking out into the main yard he checked everything, ordered his men to bring order, get the power back on, bring out the howitzers to fire airburst shrapnel shells, put the remaining small fires out and kill the three remaining prisoners. Arming himself with as much as he could carry he went to the fortified bunker by the front gate, ready for the attack he knew was coming.

A single well-maintained road led to the English army base from the nearest small town, this was totally deserted being totally destroyed from years of fighting and neglect. No one wanted to live near an occupied army base; now and again freedom fighters came to the town to spy on troop and vehicle movements to warn the other fighters up and down the country. Many had been captured or simply vanished. The trike and car powered through the town meeting no resistance, onto the road beyond where Red opened the throttle almost deafened by five litres of white fire powered engine doing nine thousand revs touching a hundred and twenty mph. The armoured car did a leisurely fifty, its top speed. John held on being unable to move due to the wind resistance and g-force pushing him into the seat. Red wore rose tinted goggles giving superb vision and clarity, he tried to go faster but 120 was it, smiling he slowly eased back and the trike slowed to eighty, sixty, forty, cruise nice and easy. What a fuckin’ machine a real wet dream. Seeing a huge oak tree by the roadside Red eased off the gas and coasted to a stop, waiting for the armoured car, this close back up was needed in case of any tanks or heavy guns. Three minutes later the car came into view, in that time Red had unstrapped from his five point harness, opened the right storage box and topped up the white fire with twenty litres from old plastic bottles. He tossed these away and hid them in the bushes. Walking over to the car he stood into the driver’s position, Gizmo opened the hatch and in hushed voices both discussed the plan. Minutes later Red mounted the trike and away they went, keeping it to forty and two hundred yards separation so a one burst of fire wouldn’t kill them both.

At the base alarms sounded the Red Alert, lights flashed, steel doors were closed, firing points opened and guns thrust forth, safety catches clicked off, bollocks scratched and Cocksucker stopped swearing. He, they were ready. His howitzers fired four warning shells; ground impact fused out to one to four mile ranges, to warn any attackers surprise was gone. Reloading with more 155s, weapon computers were programmed for airburst. There! Coming down the road was a vehicle, through his digital binoculars Cocksucker recognised the trike at two-mile range, followed by the stolen armoured car. “FIRE!”

He screamed and all hell shot forth, eight howitzers fired airburst shells to kill the enemy fighters. Not to be… return fire zoomed forth, John fired one rocket from the launcher strapped to the seat to blow a hole in the wall, Varg ripple fired all four rockets from the turret-mounted launchers. In seconds four howitzers were exploding piles of scrap metal, adding to the devastation when their ammo went up knocking down walls and killing men. John fired his last rocket at a fifth howitzer killing it, Red did wide lazy S-turns to dodge exploding shells sending shrapnel knifing down past them. He was a skilful lucky driver who nearly made it, one shell went off and peppered Red with hot metal, he screamed madly as his vest was defeated and horrible wounds committed. The trike was hit; front tyre totally shredded sending rubber and sand everywhere, kicking up sparks as the rim ran on the tarmac road, shaking the machine. John shouted something but above the exploding shells, revving engine, screaming Red, whining wheel and sounds of battle Red nor anyone heard him. Turning the left Browning forward John fired short bursts into the base positions, the wall came up with a thirty foot breech from the rocket, Red steered the trike roughly through this without slowing as John hosed left and right with his gun using up his ammo killing four English army troops who fired back wildly. Unstrapping his harness John knew what Red was doing, his speed was increasing not decreasing and mortally hit Red was doing a freedom fighter special – a suicide attack. John wanted none of this, he jumped off the speeding trike narrowly missing being snagged by the Browning machine gun, rolling himself up into a ball relaxing his body for the body jarring impact he knew would come. As Red piloted the damaged trike with engine now misfiring due to bullets hitting the side smashing a cylinder, cutting a fuel line, setting it on fire with angry yellow flames about to blow back to the twin carbs and fuel tanks, bullets whined off the front armoured tank not piercing but hitting Red in the lower left arm and neck, right into the side of a sixth howitzer with ammo re-supply vehicle parked next to it. Just before he died Red smiled knowing he had avenged Gun Barrel’s death. John rolled over and over having the wind knocked out of him, his bullet proof vest saved his ribs but he was badly shaken as the blast wave rolled over him knocking down walls, blowing soldiers to bits, setting off the gas fuel supply, creating a storm of flying shrapnel and utter devastation. John looked up with unfocused eyes as flames shot a hundred feet into the sky, he felt the heat and had to move or be burned alive. Slowly crawling along neatly cut grass he cried out in pain, he did it as wounded soldiers cried for their mothers as they burned. Knocked sideways by the blast, the armoured car stalled crashing into the wall as debris fell onto it shaking up the six men like golf balls in a bucket. Their ears rang and all swore in blue murderous words. Gizzy opened the side hatch and they chaotically dismounted Gizzy firing his Uzi as he did so, Varg tried to cover them with the turret but the power was dead. He quickly tried the hydraulics but it was frozen, with difficulty he traversed it by hand till the barrel hit the wall, still he had a small field of fire through the gap in the wall. Waiting till his men were clear Varg fired every single cannon shell round, armour piercing switching to high explosive when the tank was empty, then the machine gun using up every single bullet in an orgy of destruction. He pulped ten soldiers, shot through two building walls and shut his eyes to the destruction, he wanted to fire more rockets but without reloading they were single shot. Popping all the smoke grenades he dismounted the vehicle which was damaged, readying a grenade he pulled the pin as he climbed down into the hull from the turret, out of the side door and ran, tossing the grenade into the car. He ran into Hell as the grenade destroyed the armoured car, setting off the gas tank in a thunderous explosion adding to the war of destruction. Varg looked around for his men, saw them, was running to them as a single shot caught him between the eyes blowing the back of his head off – Captain Alun Cook had a dead cert kill. He scanned through his delicate rifle sight but couldn’t see the other five scumbags, where were they? His men would take care of them for their attack and the damage on the base, he would see to it personally.

Sarah slowly looked out of the dirty windows of the Skoda, checking her weapons by touch and instinct, she saw no one through the bushes hiding the car. Slowly opening the door she pointed her gun through the gap, clear, she emerged grimacing at her stiff limbs, not tired though, she was ready now. For anything, she had a score to settle. She walked back to the base, using all of her skills and senses, half a mile along she came to a position with four soldiers in it, she saw them, crept up from behind and gunned them down with one burst of her carbine. Bad tactics, only facing forward, one man should have covered the rear, she fired a second mag into their bodies and advanced past them, not one bullet was fired back. Quickening her pace she was a killer, nothing would stop her, she had a man to kill, Cocksucker, the man who killed her friends and raped her and destroyed her town. She would have her revenge. Coming through the trees Sarah gasped in astonishment – black smoke billowed five hundred feet into the grey sky, flames a hundred. What the fuck had happened? It had to be the freedom fighters or war vets, no one else could do that; the English army wouldn’t rebel against their leader and destroy their base. Or would they? She would soon find out. Coming to a field with open ground she crouched down and crawled a hundred yards to the road, carbine ready. There was no cover, she made a rapid decision and she would run down the road as fast as she could to the base. No one would be expecting her with all this going on, it was a mile or so but she would cover it in under ten minutes, she really wanted to see John if he was still alive. She had something so important to tell him, she missed Lee but grieving would wait, nevermind Gun Barrel.

Cocksucker heard a huge boom, which shook his bunker as his vehicle storage room went up with what was inside it, he swore and shouted orders to his troops. Kill the enemy, check everywhere and get them before they destroy anything else. He wouldn’t abandon the base, he would stay till the end and he kept his rifle sighted on the front access road to kill any more intruders or attackers. If Sarah came back he would drill her right between the eyes like he did with the prick from the armoured car, some of his shells came close to Cocksucker. That he didn’t like, fuck! There’s Sarah! He shouldered his rifle and zoomed his sight in watching her run down the road; his finger caressed the trigger as the range decreased, past eight hundred yards in his sight. He clicked the trigger and fired a single bullet at Sarah.

Sarah never saw the single muzzle flash from the slit in the bunker, nor heard the shot; she did feel the bullet hit her like a freight train though, right in the stomach. Her bullet proof vest defeated the rifle bullet at maximum range, closer and her ribs would break, closer still and it would penetrate wounding or killing her. She shouted and fell to the ground, grimacing in pain knowing this is what Lee felt like when he was hit a thousand years before. Oh how she missed him, poor Lee, my friend, how I miss you she thought, tears streaming down her dirty cheeks. For ten minutes she remained motionless, crying. Was Sarah aware of what was going on?, had she had enough of war and killing?, was she planning what to do next? No more shots hit her or fell near; the shooter must think she was dead. Slowly she rolled onto her stomach, a pain like red hot needles shot up her torso as she crawled away from the road, fuck her plan! It would kill her; someone was covering the road, not distracted by the destruction. Slowly crawling combat style onto the grass she made her way into the tree line, where she should have been before, one tactical error she wouldn’t make again, it had nearly killed her. Several shots fell close by but none hit her. Reaching the trees after half an hour of slow painful crawling Sarah surveyed her position, safe for now she stood up bending double advancing closer to the base using the trees as cover. This way would take longer but it was the only alternative to death.

Cocksucker smiled as his shot took Sarah out, he knew she was hurt but not how bad. If his shot went through the vest she was wounded and bleeding to death, this seemed to be the case for she didn’t move for sometime. He was about to order someone to go and bring in her body when she moved, slowly but steadily crawling away into the grass heading for the trees. Firing the last of his magazine on single shot at extreme range he knew he wouldn’t hit her but scare her, try to put her off from coming back? Not likely. She was a tenacious little bitch, he wanted to fuck her right now, rape her like he did before, smiling his hand went to his cock as he masturbated in his combat trousers. His men saw this but didn’t say anything; they knew their Captain was an oddball with peculiar habits. On a whim he would shoot anyone criticising him dead or promote them up a rank, he was a strange man. Finishing his wanking he ordered a squad of men to go after Sarah, to bring her in, alive if possible. This would harass her and pursuit would occupy her, Cocksucker ordered more men to deal with the escaped terrorists still on the loose. They all had to die for their wicked petty crimes.

John shook himself like a dog full of shit, his body ached all over, he had to move now or it would stiffen up with severe cramp and bruising. Looking over to the burning howitzer and ammo supply vehicle he shook his head, nothing remained of the trike but bits of twisted metal, no trace at all of Red, nothing. Flames and smoke gave the impression of Hell, the Devil must be happy with all this John thought! I’ll help him some more, time to kill some English soldiers, fuckin’ yea! Eying an abandoned machine gun with a box of ammo, one of the small 5.56mm jobs he ran over and picked it up, checking it over, clicking the safety on and off, full mag, lets do it! Where will the vets be? A sudden explosion from the vehicle building gave the answer, followed by three smaller blasts. John ran in the direction, gun held before him, finger on the trigger. Two soldiers pointed machine pistols at him challenging, “Halt! Stop or we shoot!”

“Okay guys you’ve got me… I’m putting the gun down now,” John slowly replied bending to place the gun down still pointing it at the men. As it touched the ground John pulled the trigger sending dozens of rounds spraying in their direction hitting and bowling the men down like ninepins. Neither fired back. John checked his mag advancing on to the huge building where fire burned and smoke billowed through broken windows and huge open doorway. Three tanks flamed away, four old lorries seemed to fiercely melt away to nothing, a howitzer undergoing maintenance ominously smoked and other vehicles burned merrily away, exploding fuel tanks and ammo made John wary. Where were the guys? No one was in here, he turned to leave as the howitzer blew up, Boom! Lifting the whole roof up like a tablecloth in the wind, to fall back down in a noise of thunder, walls collapsing under the strain. Fuck this! They could be anywhere? John knew any prisoners would be dead, so no one was here to rescue, no one but Sarah! Was it too late to save? He had to go to the cells/interrogation area to find her, the others must be there, if still alive. Running with his machine gun ready he entered the main building, an open door led to a dimly lit corridor, no main lights here, smoke drifted along the ceiling making him gag and spit away the acrid taste. Past doors John walked, looking out for trouble seeing dead soldiers on the floor killed with violence, by who, Sarah? A single soldier ran around the corner straight into John, surprising him. Both men stared open eyed, John took the initiative jabbing the scarred soldier in the ribs with the gun. Callously smiling John whispered, “The girl, Sarah, where is she?”

“I don’t know, I swear, I don’t know. She escaped,” whined the pathetic man.

“Is that the truth? I wont hesitate to kill you, you cunt!” from the warrior.

“Yes! Please don’t kill me!”

“Where did she go? Tell me!”

“To the armoury, she took weapons and escaped. We tried to stop her but she fought her way out like she was possessed by the Devil!”

“That sounds like my Sarah,” laughed John. Smiling he shot the man down in cold blood, walking over his body to look in the rooms to make sure. Each room was empty, no sign of her. After searching for ten minutes he walked into the Secondary Control Room, shot the guard dead and machine-gunned everyone inside using up all his ammo. Taking four grenades off the dead guard John pulled the pins with his teeth and gave the freedom fighter shout as he chucked the bombs next to the computer stations and huge screen on the wall. Closing the door he ran as the blast waves wrecked the room, smashing that part of the base. Now to the Main Control Bunker, God would be in there, Captain Alun Cook, Cocksucker, the twat who started this entire killing, he had to pay and John would take payment. Emerging onto the yard he saw the war vet setting demolition charges under cover by two of his men, priming the explosives on a small radio tower. John waved and shouted, the vet turned and saw him, shouted back, finished his deadly work and ran over to John, his men fanned out looking for targets, firing single shots now and again at unseen danger.

“John, how the fuck are you? We thought you was dead ol’ boy!”

“No, I’m bruised to fuck but I’ll live. Where’s the rest of your men?”

“Gone, they died doing what they liked doing the most, fighting,” Gizzy casually waved his hand, “as you can see, we did pretty well!”

“Have you seen Sarah? I questioned a soldier inside; he said she escaped after shooting herself out of this shit hole. I don’t know if he was telling the truth. The cunts could have killed her like they did with the rest of the captured freedom fighters and vets,” John tiredly explained.

“You looked inside? In the rooms?” Gizmo asked.

“Yea, I shot the guy and took my time, there aint anyone in there, especially not Sarah. I blew up the reserve control room too, that was fun!”

“I bet Cocksucker wasn’t in there was he? We’ll have to fix him.”

“Yes we will, I know where he will be, over there in the Main Control Room, it’s more of a bunker,” pointing with his finger.

“Lets hit it then and kill Cocksucker and destroy this base once and for all, come on!”

As one they formed a tight group and advanced to the bunker where their enemy was held up, a rat in a trap. He was fucked. Did he know it?

“Sir, we have lost contact with the Secondary Control Room. It must have been compromised,” one of the NCOs said to Captain Cook, who was safe and snug in the main fortified bunker. “Send a squad over to check it out, report back to me ASAP!” Cocksucker ordered.

“Yes Sir, on it now.”

“I want the enemy found and killed. Any word on the girl yet?”

“No Sir, the squad you sent out hasn’t reported any sighting yet.”

Sarah made it back to the base hiding in the trees, not seeing a single soldier or meeting any resistance. She passed fifty yards from the squad looking for her; both were oblivious to one another in the dense undergrowth. Climbing a tree whose branch overhung the wall she vaulted inside, landing near a gun position with a soldier asleep inside it, he woke up when Sarah thudded down. She shot him dead with her carbine and took his grenades, leaving one in the pit as a booby trap under his body, pin removed. Slowly making her way the four hundred yards to the bunker where Cocksucker was holed up, she wondered what her chances were of getting inside to kill him? It was then she saw John, actually saw him! He saw her too, he screamed and ran over to her, “Sarah, my love, my dear Sarah, you’re alive!”

“Hi John, how are you,” Sarah asked casually.

“Oh you know I’m great. Got my mates here looking for you,” John said looking at the others.

“Well I’m here, you’ve found me!”

“We lost some men getting in here and in the fighting,” Gizmo painfully said.

“I can imagine. You must have seen my signal? The rockets I fired?”

“Yes, I saw one land. I dug it up but there was no message in it, I figured the rocket was the message and here we are!” Gizzy continued.

“Oh John, I’m so glad to see you, there’s so much I want to tell you, what they did to me. I thought I was going to die,” Sarah sobbed becoming very distraught.

“It’s okay my dear, shhh now. No harm will come to you now we are here. We’ll go and get the prick Cocksucker and end this once and for all, right now,” John reassured Sarah. She noticed he didn’t have a gun.

“You don’t have a gun? Here, take my pistol and a spare clip,” she said giving him the weapon. Together they went to the bunker, meeting only sporadic resistance.

Cocksucker saw the advancing fighters, recognised Sarah. Grabbing his gun and issuing orders he prepared for what was to come ordering his reserve of two hundred men out of the secret underground barracks, to save the skin of Cocksucker and his base. His plan for domination of England was falling apart, the enemy terrorist freedom fighters and war vets had to be stopped. A secret six inch thick steel door opened and dozens of soldiers poured forth screaming and waving their guns about, no one would get past them, Captain Alun Cook would have last laugh, he always did for he was a very vengeful man…

Gizmo saw a bit of the ground move shouting, “What the fuck? You gotta be shitting me!” as light appeared and dark forms shot forth, screaming and waving guns in the air.

“English army attack, fire! Fire now! John and Sarah, go and take out the bunker with Cocksucker, we’ll sort this mess out. Go now!”

“We’re with you boss!” one of the remaining war vets hissed.

“Yea, too fuckin’ true,” the other agreed, cocking his gun.

“C’mon Sarah, it’s payback time, lets get that cunt!” John said.

“Yes, I want him dead. He’s a cunt,” Sarah replied.

“See you in the afterlife Gizzy, thanks for your help with our small problem,” John emotionally thanked him.

“Get the fuck outa here, go! We don’t have much time! Take this,” Gizmo shouted as he threw a satchel charge to Sarah, bringing his gun up to fire a burst. He saw the two go from the corner of his eye as he fired without aiming at the group of screaming soldiers. The other two vets fired together, every shot hit a soldier but more took their place, hundreds came forwards in a human tide. Inserting a new clip Gizmo fired on full auto going through his mag in three seconds, reloading, firing, reloading. His men did the same, kissing the dirt taking up defensive positions as rounds sped over their heads, kicked up brown earth around them, hit them, wounding them. Still they fired back blindly into the crowd of fanatical soldiers, one vet was out of ammo, he threw six grenades killing scores of the enemy before he was cut down dead. His mate was shot in the spine, he couldn’t walk but he died fighting saving the last bullet for himself, no way would he be took prisoner or interrogated or executed, no fucking way! Gizmo was hit in the feet, it really fuckin’ hurt! He swore and fired his last clip before readying his last two grenades, he pulled the pin on one and tossed it into the soldiers, it went off with hellish violence cutting men down in a shower of blast and shrapnel. This slowed their assault but it was too late, another bullet his Gizmo in the upper right arm, he held his grenade in his left hand, pin pulled and played dead. A little surprise for his enemy, take some of the cunts with him!

Cutting down the blacked out gap between two buildings John and Sarah aimed their guns, ready for anything. They listened to the fierce last stand by the war vets, dying for them, for Sarah, never again would she think bad of the war vets, they acted nobly and fiercely in the battle against evil. Their deaths were a small victory in the war against oppression against the English army. John spoke quietly, “What they did was a brave thing, they won’t escape alive from that fire fight. We owe them our lives Sarah.”

“I know John, I know. I’ve been through hell here they raped me. Again and again, different soldiers, so many times. The worst was Cocksucker; he raped me so many times, often when I was drugged up. They used truth serum on me, got all my secrets and info out of me, I never knew about the nuke though. The cunt never liked that,” Sarah cried reliving the trauma, upset and terror of it.

“Oh fuck Sarah. I can’t believe it I can’t. That cunt is worse than a Nazi, he really is. We’ve got to kill the cunt, he can’t be allowed to live,” John consoled her.

“It was hell, they took me to the huge building that’s now on fire, put me on stage in a sexy dress and raped me on a bed. The whole fuckin’ base, every single fuckin’ soldier. Even the gay ones I bet. And I had to do it, I had to or they’d kill me. I didn’t want to die, not like that against a wall. Cocksucker showed me some of our people executed after getting secrets from them that were horrible. It reminds me of what we did to the Welsh in the civil war. I’ve had enough of this shit, I can’t take it any more!” Sarah muttered.

“My love, after this we’ll leave this shit forever, no more fighting, no more guns and bullets and death. I promise you, no more killing. That leads me to say something Sarah, something very important… I love you babe, I’m in love with you. You can’t imagine how long I wanted to say it, for so long. I feel a weight off my shoulders now I’ve told you, I feel complete now we’re together,” a tearful John told his love, gently taking her face in his hands and kissing her deep and passionately with tongues. For five minutes they kissed embracing like their lives depended on it, maybe it did.

“I feel the same John, all I’ve thought about is you. You’re the only one left now; I don’t ever want to lose you, never. I love you too…” Sarah completed the circle, if they got through this…

Cocksucker listened to reports coming in of the gun battle between his men and the enemy. He smiled, nodded his head, small progress but at a cost. Three terrorists killed outright for the cost of seventy-two men dead and twenty-one injured – nearly half of his remaining force. Two escaped, one was the girl and a male fighter, no doubt heading this way…

Reaching the main bunker where Cocksucker was hiding Sarah immediately placed the satchel charge on the main steel blast doors and pulled the wire fuse, a hissing came from the twenty-five pound bag. John beckoned Sarah to join him behind a raised earth revetment to escape the blast and debris when the charge blew after a thirty-second countdown, just enough time to hide. Crack – Boom! The small primary charge blew setting off the main dual-purpose fragmentation/shaped charge explosive with the force of Thor. A blinding flash and shockwave followed by kicked up dust, shrapnel and debris shooting everywhere. When the dust cleared Sarah popped her head up in tune with her gun, the double six inch blast doors were lifted off the runners and thrown inwards like playing cards, one had a huge two foot hole burnt straight through the metal. “Fuckin’Hell!” was all Sarah could manage. Advancing into the door way John saw ten soldiers missing legs and torsos, some still alive but incoherent and in great pain, obviously a blocking force to stop them both. John and Sarah struck first by luck and default. Slowly creeping down the dimly lit passageway to the bunker within they entered a subterranean world, nothing but a direct hit would kill this place, even the all use rocket launcher would struggle, as this was a hardened target. Soon they reached the Command Room where Cocksucker was holed up, a machine gun moved left and right from a slit in the door. Hugging the wall John approached it and silently withdrew a grenade from his pocket and a roll of tape, carefully taping the grenade to the steel door next to the slit, he gently pulled the pin of the grenade as Sarah covered him. He nodded and both ran five yards either side of the door, placing their hands over their ears and facing the wall, Boom! The grenade went off kicking the door in and killing the machine gunner behind it with the gun, Sarah ran to the edge of the door way and threw three grenades in and hid again. These went off with terrible force, both freedom fighters entered the room Sarah firing on full auto using a mag then reloading, firing again, John firing a full pistol mag and reloaded. They met no resistance due to the ferocity of their attack, Cocksucker was thrown to the floor, his left arm broken in three places, bleeding from a dozen shrapnel wounds. Every one of his soldiers inside was dead or wounded, out of the fight; John and Sarah had a breathing space to kill Cocksucker before reinforcements arrived.

“Sarah do you wanna do the honours or shall we do it together?” John asked.

“Together, for all of the people this cunt has killed. Lets get on with it,” Sarah emotionlessly answered. Raising her carbine she checked the mag, cocked it and looked at John, he smiled and aimed his pistol and nodded. Sarah and John fired together, 5.56mm high velocity bullets mixed with 9mm slugs smashing into Cocksucker’s face, obliterating it to a ruddy gore of splintered bone, oozing blood and exposed brains. John threw the empty pistol down onto his enemy’s body and spat on him.

“Cunt! That’s for all the people you’ve killed and for raping my woman.”

“Lets go, our job is done here,” Sarah solemnly said.

“Yes, we’re outa here, we’ve to be careful though,” John replied.

“Yes. I’m starving too,” Sarah commented.

“Me too babe, lets get outa here first…” Together they crept out of the base under the cover of darkness, their mission complete but at terrible cost. Nothing mattered more than being together. From the forest a woman watched them leave, she knew they were the ones she needed for her ritual. First she had work to do here, lost souls to send over to the other side before the Devil came to claim them and living soldiers to show the light before He stole them, she was here just in time. His tool was dead but He would speedily replace him with another willing slave of evil. Hurrying from the bushes she prepared to do her work.

Chapter8 Altitude

Leaving the destruction and madness of English Army Base Alpha Delta Two John and Sarah walked through the forest next to the base in a northerly direction holding hands, taking their time. Lost in each other’s worlds but each a prisoner of their own little hell, time was on their side now they had nowhere to go. Oldham was destroyed, every single person living there was dead, as were homes and possessions, a new start had to be made and this was fact, not an option. Decisions had to be made using logic after a surreal time of hatred and war, actions had to be taken not with firepower but intelligence, the two ex freedom fighters now sought out new roles, new identities, a new home and new ways to do things. Combat experience counted as nothing when the enemy was wiped out, as was the English army in the north area, escape meant survival and a chance to really live, not to kill, trade guns, drink moonshine, plan for the next war in a decade of near continuous action and bloodshed. Freedom beckoned something that was often briefly tasted and experienced but was always out of reach except for fleeting moments after major events, like the civil war or the battle just ended. Where to now?

Walking with her arm linking John, Sarah hummed a tune of happiness yet the tune wasn’t a happy one it was poignant and sad. She remembered being a kid and seeing an old band from the late 80s on TV, All About Eve, doing a song but she couldn’t remember the name. It hovered out of reach like a bat in the night. John commented, “Hey Sarah I know that tune, it’s by what’s there name? That gothic band from Yorkshire. They were on that old crap show with pop bands that never sang they just mimed. Well this band just sat there looking dead coy, well the singer did. I was only a kid but she was well fit!”

“What! Fitter than me?” gasped Sarah.

“Erm… no! I didn’t mean it like that, really Sarah,” John hesitantly explained.

“Good boy, we don’t want you in trouble now do we?” Sarah eyed him belligerently.

“I meant it as a … comment. Not to offend you, I’m sorry Sarah.”

“Well John boy, if you wanna be my boyfriend, you gotta start acting like one. Always remember to put me first. After all, I am Sarah!” she said looking all regal and royal, sticking her nose up in the air.

“Your boyfriend? That was quick; I mean we haven’t made love yet. I’m shocked, I don’t know what to say…” looking spoilt for words, John let Sarah take charge.

“Well my love come and give me a kiss. Not a peck, a real one. If you’re any good I’m all yours!” Sarah stopped and turned to face John, looking into his deep green eyes and kissing him full on the mouth, probing with her tongue – he let it enter to dance with his. Falling to the damp ground in the forest the couple wrapped their arms around one another. Heads moving in slow circles kissing deeply enjoying this new found freedom of love and relationship, these early moments mattered more than a shell did to a snail, it was a barrier to the pain, it signalled a new era and direction. Intimacy beckoned, John pulled Sarah to him, he took off her military gear, threw it in a pile on the ground. She wouldn’t need it again, just the clothes she stood up in, John let Sarah undress him first with her eyes and then her hands. She placed his dirty blood stained clothes next to hers – together as they were now, naked lying on damp grass with no inhibitions at all. John stroked Sarah’s body all over feeling her nice breasts taking each one in his hand and gently caressing it, stroking her nipples with the tips of his fingers until she moaned with delight. He moved his hands lower to her bushy pussy, tickling her pubes making her shudder with delight, his probing fingers advancing lower to her fanny wet with pleasure. Moving to straddle her, he put his huge cock in her right hand so she would guide it up her tight pussy and complete the second circle by making love to his girl. Only once before did they make love in the wild party at the flat so long before, it wasn’t that long was it? How things had changed since then, it was only innocent adult fun then but now only two were left.

Pumping deep into Sarah’s nice hot wet tight pussy John used his huge 6ft 2 frame to rhythmically pound Sarah’s pussy into submission, to surrender to his nine inch cock that went in, out like a massive Victorian perverted perambulator on a Doctor’s table up a victim of jack the Ripper. She moved with John moaning continuously and not stopping, she started to orgasm when John carefully guided his left hand downwards so his fingers found her clitoris. He rubbed this slowly, alternating with circular motions, tickling it, his other hand holding Sarah’s left thigh, which he squeezed and caressed as his cock did the work, his ass moving like a jackhammer. Sarah moaned louder, screaming as she had her orgasm, John grunted like a man possessed – by the love of a girl now exploding into desire and lust and a release of spunk. After making love they both embraced as if the world was ending, falling into a deep sleep of exhaustion.

When they awoke it was early morning daylight, how long had they been asleep, six or eighteen hours? They didn’t know. Getting dressed they left the forest, ditching now useless military gear of webbing, bullet proof vests, bullets, guns, a bayonet and more. He just kept an old pistol he picked up leaving the base. Coming to the old abandoned town, walking down the main street past boarded up shops, Sarah commented on how hungry she was, that she had lost several pounds and she needed to eat, like now! John looked up at the shop names, wondering if any had food inside, there! An old faded sign showed this store was Aldi, once a German range of supermarkets selling so many things from bog roll to beer to food. John looked for a way in, he found it down a side alley blocked by wooden crates, a burnt out motorcycle complete with body of some unknown and fifteen bent shopping trolleys all piled together. He wasn’t going to rationalise all this, hunger was the new enemy needing a new counter offensive. Going back to where Sarah sat on a trolley at the alley opening he took the bayonet she still carried and forced the lock, half an hour of strife and it was bust the door creaked open. With a rifle John would have blasted the lock in seconds. Was it a good idea leaving the weapons? The future held the answers.

Sarah eased her tired behind off an overturned trolley and followed John into the old Aldi shop, being as quiet as mice trying to avoid a prowling cat. Nothing but darkness was before them; Sarah solved the problem with a torch she found lying on a workbench by the door. Clicking it on she shone it around the room they entered, dust floated in the air, covered everything – the floor, workbench, tools on the wall, shelves with fuck knows what on. This was some sort of small maintenance room; nothing was of use except a long iron bar John picked up, just in case. Leaving the small room by an orange fire door, unlocked, they entered the warehouse that once supplied the store with goods to be sold and this was worth checking over slowly. Together so as not to be separated they looked on the lower shelves for food, canned goods that though out of date would still be edible. For over an hour they looked through a sea of brown boxes of all sizes, flat packed garden furniture, exercise bikes, bits of furniture and much more crap. Shining the dim torch beam up Sarah looked up the four high pallet racking to scan above into the dark, pallets of more brown boxes – this shit could be anything. John climbed up a section of racking to the second level, he looked at small writing covering a box, brushed some dust off and said, “Mother fucker! This is a set of goddamn garden gnomes! I cant believe the shit they’d fuckin’ sell!”

Sarah spat on the floor and muttered about being hungry. Climbing higher up John checked the third level, old mobile phones on Orange network, he chucked a few boxes down to check later. Up to the top level into the dark, torch held in his teeth, he just about made it, slipping on a greasy metal beam John nearly fell thirty feet to his death. He held on with one hand and scrabbled for a foothold, a handhold. He made it! The top layer contained some food pallets, layers of dirty dusty tins behind clear plastic, over a hundred tins per layer with faded labels.

“Sarah, I’ve found some food, I don’t know what it is but I’ll check, I’ll throw some down. Stand out of the way so no cans hit you!” John warned, moving with agility over the pallet resting the torch on the neighbouring pallet so he could see. Peering at the plastic John picked the top layer to start on, ripping the plastic cover he slowly got to the tins. Removing one he gently wiped the label on his dirty jacket, shining the dim torch he just made out “Tomatoes”, picking a second tin at random, this turned out to be peaches, onto another, this one was meat balls. Shouting down to make Sarah move over John chucked the tins down, listening to them thud down below, as many as he could reach. He tried to push the full pallet down but it was too heavy, it must be fifteen or twenty tin layers high, over a ton in weight. He cleared three layers, sending them down like bombs from Lancaster bomber, enough! Telling his girl he was climbing down he slowly made his way down, being careful in the dark as the torch beam dimmed as the old batteries failed. Reaching Sarah John hugged her and kissed her deeply, saying “Is this enough my queen? Please pass me your bayonet and I’ll open the tins to feed my gal.”

“I’m so hungry. I want to have some peaches first,” Sarah quietly said passing the blade to John. He rummaged through the tins squinting at the labels until he found a tin of peaches, moving to the open door he carefully placed the tin they and stabbed the bayonet down to forcibly remove the lid. Checking the contents was okay by tasting a peach segment (he didn’t want his chick to get food poisoning) he passed the tin to Sarah, with bayonet. She moved into the light sat down and ate with the bayonet piece by piece, the smile on her face brought raptures to John’s heart and a smile the size of Lada Riva made into a Soviet limousine. She soon emptied the tin, drinking the juice, which ran down her grubby blood streaked face; she threw the can into the dark and held out her hand – another tin! John rolled some tins over to her and she looked a the labels, chicken tikka sounded nice but she didn’t want to chance the meat being off, onto rice pudding, beans and sausage, I’ll have that one. John opened it as with the first one, checked it and passed it to Sarah who looked at it and grimaced – cold beans! Better than nothing, she munched the sausages and some beans, leaving the majority to John who ate them in two minutes flat. Looking for another tin John picked pear halves, yummy, yummy in John’s famished tummy! Eating this brought real happiness to John, he thought back to when he was a teenager and his mum used to make him pears and custard, now a million years ago but only twelve or so. He drank the juice as Sarah had done, throwing the tin out of sight.

“Come here babe, we’ll rest for a bit and then get some stuff from here for our journey.”

“Okay my John, I still feel tired and I feel so unused to eating. I feel better now. I’ll eat something more later,” she replied, moving over to John cuddling him and closing her eyes. For two hours they dozed enjoying their time together, making love one time before having half an hour more to chill out then time to sort out what they needed.

John checked the work room for more batteries for the torch, he was lucky finding just two in a draw near to where the torch was before, swapping them over brought the beam to full strength. Now they had a chance! First John and Sarah paced about the warehouse gauging the size and location of things; it didn’t seem so large afterwards due to the racking system. The floor had some hundred-pallet spaces to look through; Sarah found a huge cardboard box on a pallet with canvas holdalls on, just what they needed! She took one, John two. Onto the other pallets, some spaces were empty but others had crap, more flat pack shit like wardrobes and draw units, more gems like torches but the new ones that you wound up for a minute and got ten minutes of bright light. They took four of these, John used the battery torch while Sarah quickly turned the mechanism for a minute and pressed a metal button – bright light! She whooped with joy, this is great she screamed in a girly voice. Speeding up, peace work, peace work motherfucker! They hurried through the boxes many of which were mouldy and fell to bits when touched, searching, looking, finding. A selection of boots made by Timberland, the best civvy boots next to military ones, priced up at £215, John picked a pair of size 10s and Sarah a 6. Taking off his worn boots John put on a pair of dark brown Tims, walking up and down in them testing them out – perfect! Sarah took off her army boots replacing them with her cherry red Tims, very sexy! She didn’t want a reminder of the base; her old boots were one less reminder of the hell she experienced there. Onto the clothes, jeans packed in plastic boxes, hundreds of pairs most of which didn’t fit, John picked five pairs, four to carry and one to wear. Stripping off his grubby trousers he tossed them away and put a new pair of jeans on, he needed a shower but didn’t care, new jeans were a start. Sarah took her army combat trousers off revealing her sexy shapely legs, in slow graceful movements she changed into a black pair of neat feminine jeans, five pairs went into her holdall. Shirts made up the clothing together with underwear and socks, wearing new clothes made the pair feel human again. All they needed was a shower. More supplies went into the bags, some tins of food, half a dozen packets of stale crisps John tried and said were okay as emergency food. Drink was special kitten juice, an energy drink like Red Bull but twice as powerful and full of amphetamines or so was claimed, this was okay, time made it more potent as the chemicals became unstable and bubbled away. Some bottled water and other things made up the load for the trip on the road to nowhere, destination unknown. Together checking the rest of the boarded up store with torches Sarah and John reefed through papers in the Managers office, boring stock sheets, future orders (never delivered due to the war), correspondence with whinging customers and more shit. Nothing useful, what did he want to find? Answers to the nightmare that descended onto England and destroyed the United Kingdom? The main store was all blacked out, shelves full of what was in the warehouse, out of date tins, rotting bread, mouldy fish, dried out meat, tills full of useless cash, the detritus of an old life now long gone. John picked up two tin openers to save on the bayonet, they went into one of the bags, the other was left in back, onto the booze bit, fuck, look at all of that! Vodka, red wine, beer… John opened a bottle of beer and took a long swig, “That’s good kraut beer! Here Sarah you take one. Lets have some more. Do you wanna get pissed and move on up north tomorrow?”

“I wanna get pissed but carry on today, fuck it if we’re pissed. It’s part of the fun!” she humorously replied.

“Okay my gal, we get pissed right now. Here grab a crate and some vodka, put more into the holdall. We’ll take it to the back and get the other one. The more booze the better!”

Going to the back room the ex freedom fighters carried the stuff, getting the empty holdall and filling it with assorted booze, returned to the room, shut the door with a half functioning lock and got pissed under wind up mechanical torch light. Beer after beer, followed by vodka and red wine, getting merry together the first time as a couple, a nice feeling. Sarah quietly sang a song she heard long ago…

“I sit by the harbour, the sea calls to me, I hide in the water but I need to breath. You are an ocean wave my love crashing at the bow, I am a galley slave my love, if only I could find out the way to sail you, maybe I’ll just stowaway.

I’ve been run aground so sad for a sailor I felt safe and sound but needed the danger. You are an ocean wave my love crashing at the bow…”

Sarah gently swayed in front of John to her song, the song of All About Eve sung by Julianne Regan, once a beautiful gothic rose, where was she now in the chaotic year of 2015? John stood and embraced his girlfriend listening to her sweet singing, only stopping to drink their beer, together from one bottle, listening to the haunting melody bringing back a million memories from another, a million other, lifetimes. Silently he cried, weeping for what was now lost forever. He held his love close, would never let her go, never.

Later, after drinking twelve bottles of six percent German beer (two crates), a bottle of red wine and an unknown amount of vodka John said to Sarah, “Okay babe I’m taking a piss and a crap and then we’ll go. You do your stuff too.”

“Let me finish this vodka, there’s half a bottle left. Fuck, I’ll bring it with me.”

A bit later picking up their holdalls and stuff they opened the door and left the dark room, stepping out into dark unlit nighttime. Carefully climbing over the trolleys and crap in the alley they waited at the edge where it met the main road, looking both ways – clear! Into the night the two ex freedom fighters went stumbling about like the drunkards they were, one step forwards, two back, six side to side down the dirty footpath staying close to the buildings. Looking down the road over the buildings a distant glow illuminated the night sky, the English army base blazed away, they were responsible for that…

Pissed up after too much legal booze John and Sarah headed out of the derelict abandoned town heading down the main road leading out of Cheshire into Greater Manchester. A huge flat plain occupied the surrounding area, no high ground from North Wales until the North West of England, well into Lancashire with the Pennine moors and mountains. This was where they headed and beyond, high ground and safety, an unconscious feeling of security amongst the rocks, valleys and reservoirs on the back bone of England. Several days walk, maybe a week, lay ahead, they discussed acquiring a vehicle but this could bring unwanted attention so on foot with stealth and surprise if anything developed situation wise.

Darkness faded as dawn sprung forth, a band of colours occupying the heavens fading into midnight blue and black. Tired from walking most of the night and sobering up they looked for somewhere to hide out during the day, travel by night was safer in theory but any rival groups, knifemen or predators belonged to the darkness so they still had to be careful. Not a living soul had been seen until now but they’d only travelled one night. An old half collapsed church came into view off the road on the right, down a dirt track, Sarah looked at John and smiled, “We can stay there today during daylight and move out tonight.”

“We’ll check it out,” John agreed. Now half the sky was ablaze with the 5am rising sun, banishing darkness rapidly away, the eighty foot tall half collapsed spire was in black silhouette along with the rest of the church. Darker gaps showed where windows were missing under the section that still had a roof, further along sunlight streamed through broken windows and missing sections of the roof, beams sticking out like rigid fingers on a corpse. This place must have been derelict and deserted for years; the graveyard was on the left overgrown with trees, bushes and weeds. Reaching the main building John led the way looking for anything suspicious or signs of life like burnt out fires or possessions. Nothing. One main front door nailed shut with wood and a single small rear door locked, this was the least conspicuous to break into. Passing John the bayonet Sarah kept watch, he knelt and forced the door best he could with the least damage. Due to it being a church? He didn’t say. Tough to crack the old locks gave after ten minutes of delicate abuse, slowly opening the door John grimaced as the hinges creaked. Looking into the dark interior his eyes saw nothing but darkness and shadows until he got used to the view, no movements, not even bats – they’d use the roof. He went in first holding the bayonet ready, Sarah drew her pistol clicking the safety off and followed, they left the heavy bags by the door. Best be ready for any trouble and pick them up later. Now they were inside.

Looking up they saw the roof was half missing, light came through making the exposed roof beams look like fingers, darkness reigned where roof tiles covered the remainder. Several stain glass windows were complete, light slowly came through these on each individual pain, dirt slowing this down. What a sight it must have been before! The outside sky was coming through the missing or broken windows, on the dark side the fleeing night showed one last challenge to the coming day, visible on the other side. A nice non-permanent sight. Slowly walking past the back of the church down the main aisle past the wooden pews the two stared at the dilapidated building, not fearful of attack, they knew they were safe here and that no evil or enemy was here. Due to sacred ground?

John reached into his pocket and got his wind up torch, he clicked a button and it came on, he wound it before ready for this moment. The light shone over dusty seats, dirty carpets on the walkway, peeling paint on the walls, massive water damage under the missing roof section, over a huge stain glass window to their immediate right showing many images, to the three foot high unpolished brass Christian cross behind them on the area near the pulpit. This was askew; rot eating the wood away until it one day it would collapse through neglect and disrepair. Returning to the back of the church they saw a small room for storage and office work with dusty telephone and twenty year old computer, with a set of filing cabinets and open wardrobe with moth eaten robes on show.

“Sarah this place has been derelict for years, look at the state of it? What a mess!” John commented. His eyes scanned everything.

“I know, it’s sad. I guess with the last ten years, no one wanted to come to church. Things here got too bad. How bad is that?” Sarah replied. She was never a churchgoer but she was intelligent enough to know when a way of life was over, lost forever. Like this. It was part of a community before, not now.

“Yes, you’re right. I think we can go and get the bags; we can spend the day here. This room will give us some protection and a good hiding place.”

“Yes, it will. Lets go get the bags then. I’m starving, we’ll have something to eat.”

“Good idea! It’ll have to be cold beans but it’s better than nowt! A fire would attract attention.”

“And we don’t want that, no fuckin’ way!” With that they retraced their route and brought in the holdalls of supplies. When back in the room Sarah unpacked a huge bath sheet she found in the Aldi warehouse, this was their bed for the night, they would keep warm by staying fully clothed using one of the holdalls as a rough fat pillow. They both smelled and needed a bath, this facility was lacking. Closing the door, John got some tins of cold beans, opened them with a tin opener and passed Sarah a tin and a fork; she thanked him and ate the cold meal. He did likewise, later they cuddled up together and slept through the daylight hours, at peace on their new life together not conscious of being watched, from a distance, by someone who did care about their well being.

Eight hours later when they woke it was still light. In a few hours it would be dark, then they would move out and trek through the night, before then Sarah tried the old computer but it was dead like the lights. No joy there. She looked through the filing cabinet; it contained old paper work on the church budget including how much the roof repair would cost. Too late guys! Half’s missing. She found a draft copy of a hastily typed letter full of typos expressing great concern at the deterioration of the relationship between Wales, Scotland and England. Everyone left alive knew of the aftermath of the civil war in death and destruction. Sarah showed John the letter, he swore when he read it, the contents were shocking, including:

“Concern is expressed at the new freedom and independence movements in your respective countries. These movements must be linked and planned, though individually, this will destroy the UK and plunge your respective nations into political, economic and lawless turmoil. I urgently suggest a meeting in a neutral place to raise the above issues and to map a road map to find a solution. I fear dire consequences if we fail…”

The letter was addressed to the Archbishops of both Cardiff and Scotland, one last effort to stop the break up of the United Kingdom, which failed irretrievably, all of it history now. Was the letter ever sent? What did recipients feel? Personal feeling was overrode by current affairs of the day, for if nations wanted independence, they would do anything to get it, from politics to war. John folded the letter up and put it back in the draw. Other letters raised similar concerns, addressed to the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom (and later the English leader, for a short period of time), familiar and depressing topics of the last decade.

John embraced Sarah kissing her and holding her tight, both happy together eager to shut out their joint dark past, that of their nation. Kissing some more, stripping and making love cleansed their souls of negativity and depression, later they ate and set out into the twilight. Their time in the derelict church was over.

Down the main road to the next village, onto the road, to the next town, up into Manchester, be careful then bypass the radioactive desert that was now Oldham, to the northern moors and safety of high ground. Sarah and John met no-one until they arrived at the outskirts of Manchester, a group of armed men not in English army uniform, dressed in old tatty faded combat clothing of differing colours and styles. Shit, they’re freedom fighters! With caution the intrepid couple walked over and gave the freedom fighter salute – a raised fist. The group in turn closely watched them, one covered John and Sarah with a gun, he was the one who returned the salute.

“Alright guys? You still together after all this time?” John asked.

“Yes, we’re okay. Where ya all heading to?” the leader with the gun announced warily.

“We escaped from the army base after destroying it, we’re going north to safety,” Sarah quietly told him.

“Fuckin’ Hell! That the truth? You aint shittin’ us!” he exclaimed in wonder.

“Yes it was us,” John confirmed.

“In that case come and have a drink with us, spend the night with us. We’ll look after you and give you safe passage whenever you wanna leave,” the leader said.

Sarah looked at John, he nodded to her, looked the leader in the eye and spoke: “Okay, we accept your offer of hospitality and drink. Lets get pissed!”

They joined the group of seven heavily armed men and went to their base, a mile away down winding deserted streets in Manchester city centre, past large dark tower blocks of varying sizes. John looked past the old Victorian houses to three or four tower blocks of dizzying height of between 20 and 60 floors high, rising up into the dark night like a mountain range. The smaller one was badly damaged by fire sometime in the past, broken or blackened window, exposed beams and girders reminded John of a blast-injured person from past battles. Darkness led to more darkness.

Sarah carried one large holdall on her right shoulder, John two, the freedom fighters didn’t ask on the contents but each man would presume to know – provisions for a long hard journey. Each man had a personal history and story, many similar to the duo. If trust was really established, barriers removed then the stories could be told, battles remembered and celebrated, lost comrades drank to. If trust weren’t established, trouble would be unleashed like an angry river. Yes it would be nice to spend time in similar company but a new life had to be pursued, to no ends and no obstruction, a little time would be okay but no more. One day, no more… then north.

Nearby an overgrown city park looked so tranquil in the night, just visible, grass and trees growing wild returning the park to nature, tarmac pathways large dandelions pushing through them, a park bench had branches sprouting through the gaps. Past the Arndale shopping centre with boarded up and empty shops, empty office blocks with dirty windows, all unused except for shelter. The base was in an area past the centre of town at an old row of run down houses, like the old church half had no roof slates or tiles, exposed roof joists were naked to the blackness. The dilapidated building was an excellent disguise as the duo found out; it was the third house from the end, down a grassy back alley full of crap – two wrecked cars, shopping trolleys and old rotting furniture from the houses. To a black gate bolted shut from behind, one fighter vaulted over the five-foot wall to unbolt the gate, the others slowly entered all keeping an eye out for any pursuit or suspicious activity. The night hid them all. Into an overgrown back garden to the back of a Victorian house with boarded up windows and a large thick wooden door, as old as the house. Using an old metal key one fighter unlocked this and let them in, same as before all eyes alert for anything odd, John and Sarah included, alertness was something soldiers never forgot not even for a second. Or death would claim them.

The kitchen and back room were dark; one fighter produced a simple cheap gas lighter and lit a candle in a cracked teacup. Its low light flickered amongst the people like ghosts at a gothic night funeral. A four-seat table with chairs, cupboards, reasonably clean sink (working water?) and boxes containing something filled the kitchen. The back room had four or five mattresses on the floor and a random litter of guns lying around. Into the hallway, down to the cellar with several more candles lit, this unnerved Sarah, a sudden feeling of foreboding enveloped her, totally overcoming her. She swore as her body shook and convulsed in an automatic nerve ending twitch of fear, she shouted and screamed, dropping her holdall almost collapsing her hands finding the walls feeling to her like grease, she went into shock and fell sideways. John caught her before she fell down the steep dark steps breaking her neck, “Sarah, Sarah! Babe are you okay? I’m here it’s all right. Fuck, help me, get her down these fuckin’ stairs!” John shouted, his eyes wide with concern.

“Right you two, help him, now! Get the girl down to the cellar,” the leader ordered. His men did as told.

“I… I feel ill; I can’t see right…” was all Sarah could mumble.

“It’ll be okay, really my love!” John almost cried.

“Careful, take your time, slowly. Right, put her down there on the bed, easy…” the leader ordered his men. The leader turned on the lights illuminating the small room twenty foot underground with everything for any situation just by taking a quick look around, John noticed. Sarah was almost unconscious on the single camp style bed, John held her hand and quietly talked to her, she was out of it, John watched over her and let her rest. One of the men brought them fresh water from a running tap; he drank a bit from each glass to show they weren’t poisoned. John gave Sarah the slightest of sips on her lips, she tried to sit up for more but he hushed her and asked her lie down then gave her some more. He emptied his glass in one, taking his time with the second one. The leader was a trained doctor and he carefully examined Sarah, nodding to himself and talking under his breath. One of his men passed him a case of medical stuff, he asked John what had happened to Sarah when she was held prisoner at the base, if John knew what she had been given as this was still in her system. John didn’t know, he said Sarah hadn’t told him everything just that she was made to talk and was raped by Cocksucker and every one of his men. The leader stopped checking her and looked John directly in the eye, his words weren’t repeatable. That shit made him want to kill the cunt, not just for men killed in previous fights against the English army. The leader ordered his men upstairs to leave him and John alone with Sarah so she could be checked over fully, every bit of her, the fighters went upstairs to join the single guard left in the kitchen guarding the house just in case. Together John and the leader stripped Sarah of her reasonably clean Aldi clothes so the leader was able to check her over, he said she needed a bath after being examined, she was filthy with dirt. She had some fading bruises from her rough treatment at the base and ensuring fights with the English army, no broken bones, her old shoulder wound caused a reaction from the doctor trained leader. Did it cause her trouble? Only when she got really cold or lifted too much, why she carried her holdall on her other shoulder, it was a reminder of her freedom fighter days battling the Welsh insurgency. Onto her private parts, the doctor went and prepared a bowl of hot water and antiseptic, put on some cavity search rubber gloves and examined Sarah’s abused pussy. She had some vaginal stretching from being fucked over 300 times, she was lucky it never tore and got infected. That would have led to serious trouble and needed instant treatment, would she have been treated at the army base hospital? Probably so she could be raped again, the sick cunts. Physically she was okay but she needed rest and an injection of vitamins and a glucose drip, he asked John could he do this to treat Sarah? Yes John immediately nodded. He took a blood sample and tested best he could, there seemed to be no disease or serious threat to her health but he picked up traces of something. It was the sodium pentathol truth serum that the English army had used on her to extract their secrets, a form of mind torture one she was naked to stop and fight against. In time this trace would fade but only with time, judging by what was left in her system she would be okay and not poisoned by the chemicals, she was lucky there. Her mind was damaged by her experience, by the capture, torture with the drugs and rapes, seeing her friends killed and everything else she had experienced in the last decade. Enough was enough and this was a warning sign from her body. The leader passed John a beer and a chair so he could be comfortable while watching Sarah, she was covered with a clean towel and her clothes were washed by one of the other fighters by hand in the sink. The rest came down with the one who had been upstairs, another replaced him after an hour or so, now introductions were made and there was nothing to hide now.

Sarah needed to recover and sleep, she did this for twenty hours her body recovering from one ordeal following another under John’s vigil never leaving her side, he sat in an old plastic chair. He drank four bottles of Stella beer and glasses of water to keep a clear head, the freedom fighter leader made John a meal of dried curry powder, chips from home grown potatoes and tinned hot dog sausages dating back from 2010. John told the leader and his men about the assault on Oldham by the English army, how he, Sarah and Lee had beaten back the 1^st assault using medium range all use rocket launchers, at what a great victory they won, the heavy shelling which created horrendous casualties and damage of property, followed by the gas shells. For this Sarah had a wicked plan – “Piss on the old t-shirts lads!” this stopped the gas long enough allowing a fight back from a prepared position with small arms and grenades, the Last Stand of Oldham, killing a hundred soldiers. This part of the battle was like a draw, further attacks were a defeat with Lee and Gun Barrel killed, the mad withdrawal on the trike and the loss of Sarah to the English army and Captain Cocksucker. How John with Red escaped to Rochdale to join the war vets and plan a rescue/revenge operation with the hijacked/traded armoured car and how the op worked but at what cost – Red, the vet and his merry men being killed in combat, how the base was destroyed with most of the standing garrison killed or wounded, ceasing to be a working base for the time being. And the jewel of the crown, the execution of Cocksucker after he wrecked Oldham, killed many freedom fighters and did many other crimes. He was responsible for the loss of the town in the nuclear blast when the first howitzer fire hit the lock up setting off the arms and the suitcase nuke which John acquired from Polish immigrants, not telling anyone including Sarah or Lee. He talked about his early campaigns against the Welsh in 2005/8 and a couple of ops against the Scots, all very hush hush. The Scottish ops were very much different from the Welsh guerrilla/terrorist/insurgency type of fighting, a more open battle with men in vehicles like pick up trucks (some with a gun on the back), in cars and some military vehicles stolen from the military. Freedom fighters worked in conjunction with the English army soon after it split from the British army, the superior firepower, excellent mobility and use of helicopters were a real campaign winner, most operations were successful and the war eventually won. After the Welsh/Scottish civil wars for independence did things turn really nasty, the English army turned on the freedom fighters and war vets in an orgy of violence killing their very allies due to the guns, ammo, experience and threat to the power base of the new English army. This army became smaller after the nuclear war with France, the freedom fighters and war vets became more powerful due to many fixed military targets being hit and nuked. All in the history books now if any such books had been written.

The leader had experience of the Welsh campaign but at the other end of the front line, two of his men were there too, the rest joined him in the following years. All had numerous encounters with the army being close to the base (where Sarah) was taken, their cellar base was never found, not once. John told how Sarah had been a real hands on fighter from Wales onwards, they both wanted to leave the guns, killing and war behind to start a new life in the north area. Whence the journey and holdalls.

After Sarah came to she was her old self even joking with the men, John handed her a beer and a fresh sandwich the leader had made. Sarah had a hot bath (a real hot bath!) in the small bathroom next to the cellar; the water was black when she had done. She dressed in her freshly washed clothes, she joined John and the fighters talking about world, the state of England and would things ever get any better. Sarah learned the names of the seven fighters and a bit about them – the leader who had helped her with his medical skills, once a doctor now a fighter with a decade of war behind him, his real name was Max and he was part West Indian, his second in command was Dashmia, an Albanian gangster who once tried to kill his head of state in his Kosovo Liberation Army days, Dash had much experience fighting the Serbs in a similar environment like existed here now, the other five fighters were Alex (from the south where the fighting was equally bad, he moved to escape his past and joined this group over the years, his speciality was guns, computers, unarmed fighting and criminal ideas), Bob (once a roadie for various metal and Goth bands, he had experience of motorbikes and using them in hit and run raids till he was shot up and badly wounded), Nav (an Indian once about to be deported but the airport was nuked before his flight left, he barely escaped with his life. He handled any stolen hi tech devices like the lasers, trading for arms like John did before), John (wounded in the left arm by the English army but an excellent shot with a Browning 9mm pistol, he was an ex traveller who saw his way of life cease to exist overnight after the nuclear exchange) and Andy (who once was a railway man, he handled all types of guns and explosives including home made bombs). A tight knit unit like John, Lee, herself, Red and Gun Barrel had once been, she deeply missed her friends but she could never bring them back, only celebrate their lives and achievements on the battlefield and in life. Now at last the party could begin, over a day late. Each fighter brought in a crate of beer in, the leader just about managed three – for himself, John and Sarah, no one guarded upstairs a pair of small hi tech mobile laser weapons were mounted on tripods in the hallway, facing the front and back doors. Any intruder would be hit in a single well-targeted beam of energy. Nav got these weapons from a NATO arms convoy at sea, by ambushing the vessel or trading with the crew? No one said. After drinking beer for eight solid hours everyone was unable to stand, passing out to sleep it off where they fell. This was like the famous parties at St Mary’s estate drinking moonshine, not giving a fuck, firing guns and one last blast of wild sex, never mind the moonshine, what good times they had been.

Upon waking Sarah and John were fed butchered pig (where the fuck did this come from?) with wonderful homemade sausages and crispy bacon served with spuds. Later John and Sarah had a bath together making love awkwardly in it, got dressed, gathered their things, thanked their hosts and left the freedom fighter base. The leader and two of his men escorted the duo to the city edge; he gave them some old maps, saluted them and left. Now they were on their own to carry on their journey, walking up the main Manchester to Oldham road to Failsworth, nighttime started to peter out, the first signs of dawn breaking through the darkness. To continue up to Oldham was a death sentence, the town was destroyed and radiation hung in the immediate area like a death shroud, access was blocked by rubble, destroyed roads, etc. So it was turn off near the abandoned Carpet World warehouse, over the bridge, down the road past a quiet village and on to the forest. In the village several people watched through dirty windows but no one challenged them, John was ready with the single pistol they both had but it wasn’t needed. As daylight came they reached the Failsworth side of Daisy Nook forest – a huge mixed forest dating from pre-history stretching from Oldham to destroyed Ashton to Manchester. Once a war vet/freedom fighter-hiding place, rooted out after a huge English army raid had destroyed them and their forest base. Now nature was the sole occupier with the duo only spending one day here.

Trees appeared at the end of the road, undaunted they walked on as sunlight burst overhead in a nuclear fire of life. Undercover away from prying eyes John led Sarah into the secondary undergrowth and more cover, useful if it rained heavily, the smaller trees formed a separate canopy under the main trees to catch the rain the big trees missed. Under a huge oak tree with smaller bushes and trees under its branches they made their home for the daylight hours, five hundred yards into the forest being enough for concealment, problems and any surviving army patrols. John unpacked his holdall, got a towel out to use as a ground sheet, his leather jacket was a good blanket and a jumper as a pillow. Sarah did likewise. They ate some cold ham the leader gave them and had some chicken soup cooked in the open can over a small fire they made in the undergrowth, lit by cheap throwaway lighters. A warm meal was a real luxury for the ex freedom fighters, after they dozed in each others arms before falling asleep for many hours until they awoke and made love slowly and sensually amongst nature. A walk in the forest was a wonderful experience hand in hand with no cares in the world, in the dusk light real magic filled the forest. They could be a million years in the past, future or in a timeless peopleless world at peace. Coming up to a small deep clear pool Sarah whispered in amazement, how lovely! John seized the initiative – he stripped off his clothes and jumped into the cool clean water, “C’mon Sarah! It’s lovely!” In no time she was in the pool splashing about having fun like a child. She got hold of John’s large cock and felt him harden, he held her towards him, he stroked her back, ran a hand through her hair, over her tits, past her flat stomach, to join his other hand on her sexy curvy ass. He pulled her onto his hard cock he entered her tight pussy, she felt so good! Thrusting deep into her in a slow rhythm with Sarah making love like their pagan descendants had done ten thousand years ago. For twenty minutes they fucked Sarah came twice, John once. Afterwards they swam about in the small pool chilling out in the idyllic place, as night fell they emerged dripping wet to run naked through the forest to their possessions. John pounced on Sarah and she fought him, screaming and laughing as he caught her forcing her to the leaf covered ground fucking her some more, she writhed like a dervish but he held her, had her with his spunk shooting up her, claiming her. Later they got ready to move out and resume their journey, this time through the forests endless acres under cover to Ashton Road to bypass Oldham, up a turn off away from the radiation, being careful passing Glodwick area where the last Pakis lived. Turning off before Alexandra Park to cut up a dirt track bypassing the Asian danger area, Sarah remembered her death fight with the Pakis aeons before; she didn’t want to repeat it, no fucking way. John guessed this, why he led Sarah astray up the unused track past a derelict housing estate, two burnt out old peoples homes(were the old gets still in it roasted alive?) and a half collapsed cotton mill. Down Abbeyhills Road or rather the back alleys to where they’d spend another night of their surreal twilight journey – in an old pub called “The Mule”. It looked like a fortress an imposing building of brick and stone, heavy steel shutters covered the doors (three in all). Sarah found a way in by lifting up the metal cover to the beer cellar, “I saw my dad get into a pub once this way for a spot of AT (after time) when I was a kid. I sneaked out and followed him.”

“Good thinking my love!” John congratulated her. Carefully they descended into the darkness, John used his wind up torch after working the mechanism to shine light on their surroundings. A mouldy room below ground heavily affected by damp and mould growth, strewn with rusty beer barrels, broken chairs and stools, dirty empty bottles in crates and other crap. Walking slowly to the stairs they listened for any noise or sign of life – nothing. Up they went into the pub emerging through a stiff door behind the bar, John’s torch was the only light not even the coming daylight came through almost black windows, the rest were boarded up with stone holes smashed in them. He kept the light low just in case anyone was outside; together they explored the large pub, a three floor building excluding the cellar. Upstairs possessions were strewn about in a hasty effort to leave the building, what had happened here? What calamity had descended? A chest of draws left open clothes thrown around, paperwork unattended on the dressing table, money dropped on the floor (useless now) and most poignant of all – a broken photo of a man in his twenties with his arm around a girl a little older. His wife? What had become of them? Did his parents own the pub? Did they try to find them as the bombs fell? Sarah was almost crying, she had to leave the room for it was too much for her, going down into the pub she searched for a drink, any drink. The moment caught in time really unnerved her. Checking the top shelf for spirit bottles she found none just empty ones, trying the pumps – nothing, there! In the glass fronted bottle coolers behind the bar she saw several bottles of alcopops, she got four bottles opening one with her teeth, downing half of it in one, not bothered that it was seven years out of date. John came down after ten long lonely minutes having checked out the rest of the building on his own. Silently he took a bottle from Sarah and opened it with the bottle opener he took from his pocket, he opened a second one for Sarah and one for himself. Then they bedded down behind the bar for the day on the floor, no way could they use the beds, it would disrespect the missing people who once lived here. After a restless sleep tormented by night terrors the duo left the building of memories with an hour of daylight left, willing to take a chance after such a frightful unnerving rest. Heading over the first real hills they entered natures world, in deep twilight they climbed a 600ft high grassy hill easy going in the fading light, guided by a full moon her silvery white light like magnesium fire, perfect visibility. Over this onto more hills and away from people and the legacy of what had happened to England and her population. Resting every hour for ten minutes due to the rough ground, their journey was a slow one, eating one time and drinking from clear mountain streams, walking, resting, walking to where? Covering several slow tough miles the sky changed colour, the dark of the distant moor becoming a shade lighter than the sky above it that side. Sarah stopped signalling rest time, she lied down on the tough coarse grass with her arms outstretched looking at the sky, John joined her placing his head on her breasts, both watched the stars slowly wink out as dawn claimed them. Caught in a rapture of the heavens of Mother Nature’s work, timeless and utterly beautiful. It was daylight when Sarah moved and John groaned at being disturbed, he raised his head a little and scanned around them. He saw undulating moorland stretching for miles in every direction under the grey clouds slowly filling the sky. If they stood up they would be visible against the horizon, then he saw it a bit of the sky had fallen onto the moor. What the fuck? Then he realised what it was, a reservoir that supplied the towns with water from way up here, it would make a good place to hide out the day even if they were alone here. Discussing it with Sarah, she agreed to head that way and see what was there.

Easing themselves up they moved their stiff limbs and picked up their holdalls and hiked off to the reservoir, it was a mile or so over up and down terrain, taking well over an hour of slipping and cursing until they reached it. Stretching one mile by two and a half it was vast, a man made ocean of brown peaty water held in by a stone dam some hundred feet high at the head of a valley. This opened out in the distance giving a stunning view, a faint town was visible many miles to the west, it looked odd like it was damaged. Maybe a nuke hit it? Where they in the fallout area? John took a basic radiation strip meter from his pocket and removed the foil cover, shaking the paper to get a reaction. It indicated light red after five minutes, a long time to wait if this was a danger area; the reading was not lethal providing they soon moved on. Sarah pointed to a low building not much higher than the moor; she led the way knowing it was the only place to shelter as a fine rain fell. John followed, his hand on the gun in his other pocket ready for anything but not wanting the trouble of dealing with it after a long arduous walk, coming to the dark grey concrete structure. A single rusty metal door guarded the interior, John placed the holdall down and removed the bayonet to use on the door as tool to open it and first he tried the hinges. No chance there, three heavy-duty metal hinges rusted unusable, onto the main lock, a heavy security padlock with a partially hidden clasp. This lasted five minutes as John used the metal handle of the weapon as a hammer pounding the lock with surprising skill till it failed. Corrosion helped. A lock built into the door itself was rusted shut, John used the blade levering it with his 6ft 2 frame snapping the blade clean in two and breaking the lock at the same time. He slowly levered the door open bit by bit, the rusty hinges didn’t turn but snapped, he had to be careful the heavy door didn’t fall on him and hurt him, he caught it and dragged it half aside propping it against the wall.

Leaving the bags outside with torches in hand they entered the building, their light illuminating large pipes of different sizes, pumping gear and other equipment they couldn’t identify. Dust covered everything; they were the first people in here in years. A good place to spend the day to sleep, as before towels served as ground sheets, a meal of cold beans was eaten followed by old bottled water. They didn’t make love, exhaustion claiming their energy as sleep took them letting their tired bodies relax and regain energy for the ongoing journey. John had moved the door back into place with some difficulty to give the impression it was shut, from a distance, inside it wasn’t totally dark as daylight filtered through the narrow gaps in the frame.

On waking they felt so much better, eating some tinned peaches before commencing another leg of the trip. Risking setting out in late afternoon so they could see their route they covered more miles, this time getting used to the terrain able to view the ground and judge where to place their feet so as not to fall. Happy at the change of scenery and early summer breeze that blew they made good time, coming to a hilltop and another valley where a view of miles greeted them and a stunning sunset right out of a biblical film. Really something to see. Then John saw it, hugging the side of the mountain, something big and almost invisible, a boulder? It caught his attention, he told Sarah who struggled to see it, they walked over to check it out covering three hundred yards to reach it, a house long abandoned by the look of it yet in reasonable condition.

“Want to go inside?” John asked Sarah.

“Yes, why not. We can spend the night, I’m fed up of walking in the dark. We’ve nothing to fear, that I’m sure,” she replied. In they went through the open front door. Were they expected?

Chapter9 The house

“Whose in di house?” John shouted through the open door of the stone cottage, no one answered. Again he asked, “Whose in di house?” Sarah laughed long and loud almost crying, “You remind me of the blood clot booyaka ish man Ali G from way back!”

“Yea I remember him back in the 90s and early 00s,” John chuckled, remembering the laugh they had when they were kids watching Sacha Baron whatever his name was doing his stupid but funny characters on telly. Where was he now?

“Lets enter this joint!” Sarah said, walking into the glass porch by the open door, she tried the main blue painted front door, it opened with a simple turn of the handle. Had it been unlocked all this time? John had to take off one of his holdalls to enter the small main door; he’d pick it up later. He had one of the wind up torches to see, Sarah had the other. Into the hallway three doors led off it, into the first one the front room, the second was the dining room, the third the kitchen, upstairs was like a normal house (what was normal?) with a main bedroom, a smaller one and a bathroom. Everything what was to be expected in a normal house with one exception – there was no one around, where were they? In the city when it was nuked? So no one was alive to inhabit this quiet house on the hill? When the bomb hit the city it must have been something to see, the death of 200,000 people… The blast wave would be a gentle caress like a breeze on a summer’s day at this distance.

John tried the light switch in the front room it came on! What the fuck? Outside it was night the light would be visible for miles, Sarah drew the dusty curtains coughing and sneezing due to years of crap. In the corner was the reason why the light worked, a car battery rigged up to give current mounted on an old metal TV stand, what an ingenious idea! Each other room was the same under closer inspection; spare batteries were stored in a big floor to ceiling cupboard in the kitchen. There was a multi media centre in the room, Sarah messed around with it and loud music came out of the speakers, a song about failed poignant romance sung by a female singer with a stunning voice. A dusty CD cover was on the shelf, John picked it up, it read Nightwish, “Once” album. Sarah turned the music down to a bearable level and looked at the other equipment here – 36inch plasma TV, 17inch pc monitor with dust covered keyboard and pc tower nearby, cordless phone, digital camera with printer and other gadgets. Sarah turned on the computer, a Mac model from over a decade ago; she used a similar one at college so long ago. The screen glowed green through the dust as the Mac booted up, then black, grey and finally white as software loaded up, anti virus, firewalls and other crap. On the desktop a host of icons glowed showing many uses, Sarah clicked on one with the mouse trying the internet. It came up after endless minutes of waiting bringing real opportunities to see what was happening in the world; news had been so hard to come by and was often old or just hearsay. On the main page she took her bearings – news, bizz, Myspace (still going now?), Europe online and more. She checked the date “3.32am Friday June 13 2015”, yes up to date and working, the news feed streamed up, she hadn’t used the internet (still called that after all these years?) in a decade. It was still the same or was it coz of the old computer? There was a UK news bit, she clicked it, nothing came up this bit was blank with only a white screen. Why? The English army keeping everyone in the dark? Or had everyone crashed back into the Stone Age after the wars? Then it hit her; there was no United Kingdom anymore after the civil wars. Fuck that! Onto the world news bit covering Europe, there a bit on France! After the terrible nuclear war was there anything or anyone left? Three news headlines read: “Reconstruction begins as France re-joins Europe and the World community”, “Money from America rebuilds France and bordering countries” and “UFO seen in many areas over France, strange lights in the sky and ghostly lady of the mist seen”. For ten minutes Sarah and John read the news on France. Rebuilding had to happen one day they had to build up and rejoin Europe, it was the only option wasn’t it? What was this odd report on lights, UFOs and a ghost woman? Could it be Juniper’s Daughter? After the weird talk of a woman, a leader coming to help, dismissed as hearsay, was she in the land of the frog, before coming here? Who could say? John thought it was all bullshit that people had regressed to superstition and rumour. Onto world news, a war reigned between India and China allied with Pakistan with millions of casualties. Other trouble with mad tribal leaders in South America, an American invasion of South Africa, etc, etc, the world hadn’t changed at all, just the year. War ruled the planet, as before, Sarah was about to break the connection when John stopped her, “Do a search for Juniper’s Daughter.” She did so, one hundred and eighty seven million results showed, “Fuckin’ Hell! This cant be right,” he gasped. Sarah redid it, it was correct. She clicked onto the first link, it loaded and opened and blurred photos appeared of a woman walking down a derelict road. More photos and text, she scrolled down and read the words, “Rumour and counter rumour of a second coming, of the end of the world, of a saviour of the human race. No firm evidence is available only speculation, conjecture and mystery. Just who is Juniper’s Daughter?”

On and on they both read, John left the room to get some fresh air, this was all too much. A world still at war, UFOs, this strange woman, all madness! It was then he looked up; he saw a light move across the heavens, a shooting star… then it turned and shot back the other way. What the fuck? You gotta be shitting me! “Sarah, Sarah get your fuckin’ ass outa here, come and see this!” he screamed. In seconds she was there, the sky was dark nothing was there. Then it appeared, she swore and held her breath for a full minute watching it, a dark red light pulsating and growing larger, shooting over their heads before vanishing.

“The English army in a helicopter? What the fuck is it?” John cried.

“I don’t know but it sure fuckin’ scares me,” Sarah said watching the sky. Above the clouds something glowed, the thing was back. For ten minutes the strange lights zoomed over their heads in the dark night giving a light display like no other, what the fuck was this? A real mother fuckin’ UFO! The same one from over France? Again it disappeared this time fading slowly to nothing leaving the night sky empty. Still amazed and shocked John and Sarah stared at the sky expecting a rerun of what they just had witnessed, had it been real?

“Come on Sarah time for bed,” John tiredly said.

“Yes, you’re right. Enough strange happenings for one night,” Sarah yawned. Leaving the dark outdoors the duo headed back inside to the light of the living room, John turned off the light and media centre with equipment so the battery wouldn’t be flat. They slept on the sofa not bothering with the beds upstairs too tired to care. Late next morning they stiffly awoke with aching bodies full of cramp due to the small sofa, not designed to be slept on. First they went to the bog to relieve themselves as you do, John used the bathroom toilet flushing away rancid standing water in the toilet first – how many years since it was last flushed? There was a twelve pack of luxury scented quadruple ply lavender bog roll there, what a good do! John squeezed out huge twelve-inch turd and flushed the mechanism so not to get splash back. Yey! The height of fucking royalty. He opened the window to let out the smell, it was a real ponger from out of date food. Reporting back to his chick all present and correct! She used it next but wasn’t as open about her thoughts on it, then food what was in the holdalls? These were lighter now due to the grub being consumed on their trip, plenty of booze was left John threw Sarah a can of out of date beer. She caught it without looking and opened it taking a long swig from it, holding the tin high she raised a toast – “To us in our new home!”

“To us in our new home!” John announced. Finally they were home.

The strange woman left the army base or remains of it, she was utterly drained in everyway her actions taking her physical energy to danger levels, any lower and she would die (again). Emotionally she was empty like a drought stricken river, yet spiritually she was alive in her element doing what she was meant to do, stopping killing, war and suffering by her skills, magic, ritual and divine intervention. She tended the wounded those which could be saved dressing their wounds and advising them on how to live again, not to be a slave to military rule and do the Devil’s work. On the gravely wounded she put them out of their misery relieving their mortal coil so their souls couldn’t be claimed by Him, Her enemy and the enemy of Humankind. For the living (of which there were only a few) she used her counselling skills and amazing them with her powers, her crystals, wand and incantations. She did a full magic ritual to cleanse the base and surrounding area to rid negativity and aura of death, so the Devil wouldn’t claim this patch. Then she left vanishing, in the night sky strange lights were seen and over the next few days more sightings occurred over several towns where the English army had killed, maimed and destroyed. A ghostly apparition was witnessed on more than one occasion, people noticed this and rumours spread like wild fire, she was here! Juniper’s Daughter had arrived.

Sarah prepared a real meal on the cooker in the kitchen! She had become domesticated like a horse, the perfect house wife Frau doing a meal of out of date chicken soup in a pan that she scrubbed in bleach for the first course, meatballs in tomato sauce with tinned potatoes and tinned carrots for the main course and tinned peaches for pudding. The newest tin was five years old, the oldest nearer nine, preserved in the tins forever until found by the intrepid hungry duo. John laid the table (he wanted to lay Sarah on the table) after cleaning it and the cutlery and then he watched his gal do the cooking with efficiency and eroticism. Sarah made even the simplest act of making food a sexual event, she was so hot and acted like she didn’t know but John knew otherwise, had for years since their mad teen years in battle and war. That time should have been for fucking and falling love but they had been too busy fighting to fuck, now though was a time for fucking and falling love with this hot chick before him. She was really something. He left the kitchen to wait for the food; he was starving not just for good food…

Together they ate taking their time enjoying the meal, their first in years like this, when was the last one? Long ago. All that was missing was a good half loaf of thick white bread to have some big butties on and their old comrades now in the other world, what times they had shared through good and bad. John raised his fifth beer and looked Sarah in the eye, “To our long lost friends and the times we had, to Lee, Gun Barrel and Red and all of the others not in this, our world today. Let them be at peace!”

“To them!” Sarah shouted raising her fourth beer in a toast drinking a long pull from the can. She understood how John felt as she was one and the same having shared the same experiences, friends and years, she fully understood how he felt, missing their old friends and freedom fighters but wanting, needing to move on. One day she decided to write a book on their exploits and to get it published around the world, if the same world was still here and not blown to bits. She promised to do it for herself, for John, for her comrades and for the rest of the world so the lessons would be learnt and not forgotten. Long ago Sarah’s schoolteacher had said that the pen was mightier than the sword, she doubted that but now she wasn’t so sure. John spoke, “Hey babe what you thinking? You’re in another world there.”

“I’m thinking of the past, the future, everything. You know what?” Sarah replied.

“What?” John asked.

“One day I’m going to write a book on everything. I really think I should, the world needs to know our story, what happened here. What do you think?”

“Erm… I’m not sure. I guess it’s a good idea.”

“You could sound more positive John!” Sarah glared at him. Was she playing or serious?

“It’s just so very different Sarah, you’ve not written since school. Still, it’s a good idea. Yes our story does need telling, you’re right there,” John agreed supporting his girl. She rewarded him with a big smile. Finishing their meal and beers they both went to check the outside of the building and surrounding area to see what it was like, the empty beer cans and dishes would wait.

Outside the house was on its own on the gently sloping hillside leading down to the ruined city many miles below in the distance, various ancillary farm buildings were dotted around within a couple of hundred yards most being derelict and in a sad state. A tool shed had no roof and many rusting tools with rotten wooden handles, the small four horse stables had dried hay in but no animals, two of the stable doors were on the floor having fallen off their hinges, the main barn was nearly as big as the cottage with a small side door hanging on one hinge, the main door was locked by a rusty lock and chain. They entered by the side door, which clattered to the ground as John gently pushed it open, the barn was pitch black but John had two wind up torches to shed some light upon the matter. A real mess appeared before them, stale hay and straw in bails and piles up by one wall, farm equipment of one type or another, a work desk with some type of broken machine awaiting to be fixed, an open cupboard of tools next to it, an upstairs with dodgy stairs leading upwards, a pulley system for moving hay bails to the next level, an old tractor over sixty years old judging by the design, some covered equipment by tarpaulins and dirty blankets and much more crap. This place was a scrap yard of shit and could hardly be called a real barn, could it? John walked over and awkwardly pulled a tarp aside, he swore calling his mother rather bad names when he saw what was underneath the tarp. Sarah was silent with wide eyes! What was it hiding there before them? A real mother fucking World War2 military vehicle, a Willy’s jeep with big fifty calibre Browning on the back. Was this fucking real or some mad illusion like the UFOs? Fuck a duck, it was real. Just look at that John thought, unreal but real. It was olive green in colour with a big white American star on the bonnet and smaller ones on the side with a serial number of 13666 on it, who the fuck did it belong to, the Devil himself? It actually did. It was left hand drive (stupid thick yanks!) with a chassis made from two sections of six-foot railway track, the tyres were inflated but not on the dirty floor, the vehicle rested on wooden blocks. Greased paper covered the exhaust, radiator louvers at the front and other parts to stop mice getting inside, this was stored for the long term done properly for some unknown reason.

“We gotta get this thing up and running. What do ya say Sarah?” John asked in his best/worst fake yank accent.

“Fuckin’ too right! I wanna fire the big gun, big boy!” she mischievously replied.

“Okay then. First we need some more beers, bring all the remaining drink over and I’ll sort out some light in here,” John commented.

“I’m on it my lover!” Sarah joked dancing coyly out of the barn.

John examined the vehicle carefully best he could in the dim light, he set up the torches on bits of old brush handle to give fixed light near to him. Sarah returned with the beer and other drink in a holdall as John was breaking up wood and tying old rags from the workbench onto to use as torches. He found an old tin of oil, unusable now but okay for the torches, he soaked them in the oil and lit then with difficulty with an old lighter. Sarah brushed hay/straw on the floor away from the surrounding area then John placed the torches in metal buckets to stop them burning the barn down. He kicked open the double doors from the inside breaking the rusty chain in two places, such was his kick in his Tims boots. John gathered what tools he could find to work on the vintage vehicle, with an old pump he checked the tyre pressures (what the fuck were they? He did them at 30psi guessing it was right), carefully examined underneath for maintenance issues, changed the oil with some he found in unused tins, popped the hood (fuckin’ yanks) and looked at the engine. This was seventy years old and different in layout to ones he had seen before but had all the main things a normal petrol engine had from oil filter to spark plugs to a carb. He carefully checked what he could, he didn’t want to damage anything with his limited tools and luckily he had a spark plug removal spanner. The plugs were okay but he took them out and cleaned them best he could, removing carbon deposits and adjusting the gap on them (what gap did a jeep engine use?). With other checks done the engine was okay, the gearbox seemed fine with the gears moving when John engaged the clutch (there were only four forward gears and reverse). The battery was dated 1943 and was original as best John could see, he asked Sarah to get one of the batteries from the house to use on the jeep and this she did. John examined the original battery; it was manually filled up with distilled water and ran on twelve volts, the ones in the house were 24volt. Best not to use the lights or the whole thing would short out and explode! It was all they had though… she gave John the battery. He was about to place it on the battery tray when Sarah asked him to put the original one back and try it, would it still have charge after being here a minimum of three years? (just before the nukes fell). Swearing under his breath he put it back and glared at Sarah, happy now! She smirked and walked over to the driving position, climbed aboard and looked for the key, found it, checked best she could the clutch was in neutral and turned the key. Would the engine fire? Milliseconds turned into seconds as the electrical system came alive, current flowed and the engine fired, stalled, fired again, backfired filling the barn with acrid blue smoke and fired again. Sarah revved the engine every few seconds to clear the system out and blow the crap out, left it ticking over after five minutes of this. She left the drivers position so John could check it out he did so. Revving the engine to different revs, he engaged each gear until he was in fourth with engine racing and the jeep in danger of jumping the blocks. Easing on the accelerator John tried reverse and low revs, all worked okay! Miracle of miracles. He turned the engine off. A big smile appeared on his face, “What a vehicle babe! Just perfect!”

“It’s a real beauty even if a museum piece,” Sarah said.

“The petrol tank is weird, it’s in gallons but the label says Devil Juice! What do you think of that?” John asked.

“Bit odd, along with the rest of all this. Let me see,” Sarah said as she walked over to look at the gauge with its funny writing, written in a feminine hand very delicately.

“See? I’m not joking.”

“No you aint my love, this vehicle must belong to the Devil!” she laughed.

“Anyhow it’s ours now, I’ll look over the gun,” John told her climbing into the back to finger the gun. It was a Browning M-3 with a box of two hundred and fifty rounds on the side; this was twice as big as normal and gave thirty seconds worth of fire with the trigger firmly pressed down. He carefully removed the bullets from the breech of the gun and took off the ammo box to check each bullet; a dodgy bullet would misfire and kill them all. Thirty minutes later he placed the box back with Sarah helping lift it up after stripping the gun down to its bare bones to clean it, now it was in perfect working order. Now to remove the blocks and test-drive the jeep, see if it was running and driving as it should. John dragged an old car jack over, pumped it up and let it down three times before he was satisfied it worked, placing it under the jeep he pumped it up under the metal railway lines of the chassis (ideal jack up point) and removed the blocks. When the last one was clear he moved some crap out of the way and got in the jeep to drive it, Sarah got up in the gunners position to hold on to the gun. This model of Browning was similar but bigger than the ones, which had been mounted onto the trike, so she was more than able to use it. John turned the key and the engine fired up as before, slowly he engaged gear having remembered how the box felt and gently brought up the clutch. The jeep moved forwards out of the barn into the grey daylight. Where to go in their old jeep? Down the hillside John slowly drove heading down to the ruins of what must be Bradford. The tank was full so range was no problem. Down the steep dirt track leading from the house John braked to allow for the descent, he gave Sarah a Devil fingers sign she grinned and returned it, suddenly the jeep leapt forward at this. John braked harder and the engine roared – like it was alive, possessed! Their speed slowed slightly, John dipped the clutch knocking the gears into neutral and they slowed some more to their original speed. Then he engaged gear and the jeep behaved itself, how crazy this was in a seventy-year-old jeep in perfect condition!

The drum brakes would be dodgy at high speed, no way as reliable as disc brakes and you could forget ABS with intelligent braking along fibre optics, fuck that! The track met a single lane tarmac road full of potholes and plants growing through the surface, they followed this for a mile and a half until they met an A-road with a better surface. This was a one-way ticket to Hell! The city was five or more miles down this straight road, past many abandoned cars and vans which John had to slowly go around, many had ran out of fuel or had minor collisions and been abandoned, further along some had been caught by the blast. These were on their side burnt out by the nuke blast with skeletons of people in the front seats of at least two vans, John swore and Sarah looked away. She held onto the gun much tighter, almost for comfort and reassurance, “John are we doing the right thing going down here? Remember Leeds; it’s only over the hills. How dead that was?”

“I do. We need to see this, this must never happen again. One quick look, we leave and never go back again. Okay?” he quietly said.

“Okay, one look then,” she replied. Driving down the road they covered half the distance at 20mph, John didn’t trust the old jeep so he kept it slow especially around obstacles. A concrete bridge a mile and a half out from the city had collapsed onto the road blocking most of it, on the right hand side the bridge was at a forty-five degree angle, ever so slowly he edged under this, the only way through. Sarah had to duck; she reached up and briefly touched the underside of the massive concrete structure. On the left hand side a huge lorry was squashed flat under the bridge, burnt out, smoke had blackened the concrete in the aftermath. There would be a driver in the cab…

Onto the city and buildings lined both sides of the street, mostly in ruins having fallen onto the sides of the road, John kept to the middle and ten mph. They reached the city, which was some miles from Leeds, and hit by a separate bomb, maybe the inhabitants saw the Leeds bomb explode before they were hit? How awful. This city had its own unique layout so the rubble was slightly different in position to Leeds but the debris fields looked the same, piles of rubble from a once great city and home to many people. They parked up at the very end of the road where a big roundabout had roads branching off on three or four exits. The roundabout was overgrown with three-foot high grass much higher than normal, due to the radiation? John and Sarah didn’t care about another hit of rads, after all that had happened they were so blasé about things. This was definitely Bradford wasn’t it? John had some doubts, as he was vaguely familiar with the geography, he thought Sheffield was further away and this was too big for Halifax or Huddersfield so it had to be Bradford. Not a single road sign remained standing, buildings were rubble, roads blocked, vehicles crushed or burnt out, some skeletons were visible fifty yards away untouched since the nuke hit. What a sad sight.

Suddenly Sarah saw movement in the sky, she thought it was a cloud but it moved much faster yet the colour was the same, “John we got company! Over there some type of fighter plane. You see it?”

“What? Where? Yeah, got it. What is it, what type?” John asked concerned.

“Not sure, must be some new one from Europe I think. I’m ready for it.”

“Could be army, you think? Could be from a base we don’t know about. I have no Intel from up here,” he grimaced.

Sarah cocked the heavy machine gun aiming at the rapidly approaching plane; if it got too close she would shoot it to Hell and back. At huge speed it bore down on them, she closed one eye aiming perfectly. It didn’t stop. She pressed the trigger of the fifty, heavy bullets shot forth her tracer going briefly low, she corrected minutely and aimed a fraction higher. Her shells hit the plane in a shower of sparks, she kept the trigger pressed down every round hitting home, smoke came out of the side it appeared to shake and wobble – had she damaged it? Then just before it reached them it banked lazily around so the duo was able to see the plane in plan view, it was no aeroplane! It was a flying saucer, a UFO! And it shot off at amazing speed out accelerating Sarah’s gunfire! She sighed having held her breath for the entire engagement, she checked her ammo – she fired roughly 120 out of 250 rounds. Empty shell cases were everywhere, hot to the touch. She spoke, “That was mad! It wasn’t a fighter plane, it was some fuckin’ UFO!”

“I don’t believe I saw that, no way! A real flying saucer,” John commented, dazed.

“Yes, I hit it anyhow. I saw my rounds hit it.”

“Me too, dead centre until it shot off. That was fast.”

“Yes it was, more than a jet. Lets get out of here John!”

“Okay…” John engaged gear and turned slowly on the road to head back the other way, to their house. Just before they came to the broken bridge Sarah heard something else, the object again? No more of a distinct whop, whop, whop. More company!

“John, I hear something else,” she told him.

“Get ready, I hear it too,” he replied.

“I don’t think it’s the UFO again.”

“There, there! A helicopter!” John pointed.

“Yes, a Chinook. Must be very old, it must be the English army,” Sarah ID’d the chopper.

“Yes the army no doubt about it, get the cunt!”

“I’ll knock the cunt down,” she grimly said.

It flew towards them slower than the object had, huge double rotors kicking up dust and grass due to the low altitude, real nap of the earth stuff. Sarah lined up and fired a short burst to scare them away; return fire came back hitting the road to their immediate left. John thought fuck this and put his foot down accelerating to the bridge and cover, the chopper wanted to box them it before they reached it. Sarah aimed more carefully than she ever had before at the huge bubble cockpit and bug like nose, trying to ignore the orange flashes from the forward machine gun. She fired a short burst again, her shells hitting home small bits of Perspex falling away from the canopy. She fired again using every single bullet till the gun clicked empty. She did it! Flames engulfed the massive machine, the fuel tank being hit, it turned to land but the rear rotor touched the ground in a cloud of dust. Blades snapped and shot forth like confetti zooming over the jeep and occupants, the forward rotor lifted the Chinook into the air out of control, for some 300ft it climbed wreathed in flames and smoke. At the top of its climb a huge blast ripped it to bits, shrapnel, metal and burning fuel fell to earth down to the road and the jeep and John and Sarah. They reached the bridge just in time, John had to break hard to slow from 55mph, the vehicles top speed, drum brakes squealed in protest as he nearly lost control but they made it.

“Yea motherfucker!” Sarah screamed as the Chinook impacted the ground and they hid under the bridge.

“You did it babe! Got the cunt!” John congratulated her.

“Yes I did. No one messes with us, no one!” she smiled, reaching over to kiss her lover long and deep. She only stopped when burning aviation fuel ran dangerously close to the gap under the bridge and their jeep, John drove out of the bridge and back home, the drive back was uneventful.

Questions bombarded the duo. When they were back they talked about really important shit: was the UFO the one from before doing the light display? The same one from France? Was the English army chopper chasing the UFO or looking for them? How did the Browning machine gun rearm itself? Sarah didn’t do it unless she had battle fatigue and did it automatically, yet the only spare ammo was in the barn and not on the jeep, she hadn’t touched it, what the fuck was going on? John had a real bad feeling about the jeep, like it belonged to someone/something else. They decided never to use it again, it reminded them too much of their past and was too weird after recent events.

Juniper’s Daughter was really pissed, at being chased by the helicopter and being opened fire on by the jeep. This was undoubtedly the Devil’s work, he had briefly possessed the young couple with his evil war machine when they had found it, the army was out to get her, the helicopter proved that. She still had lots to do, she sent positive mind vibes out to John and Sarah to not use the jeep again, so as not to fall under the Devil’s spell. She was mooching about in her flying disc when the slow helicopter pursued her, okay let them see her it would further her cause and spread word that she was here. Her chosen two had upset her especially the girl when she had opened fire on her damaging her precious flying craft. That really hurt and upset Juniper’s Daughter how Sarah had fired all those bullets at her, yet she was only following her instincts protecting herself and her lover. Still…

Juniper’s Daughter landed her disc on a hilltop to assess the damage; decelerating from the speed of thought becoming visible she hovered over the ground before gently touching down. The disc didn’t touch the ground as such; it hovered stationary five feet above the damp grass. A neat square hole opened in the smooth silver side of the disc, Juniper’s Daughter popped her head around the open doorway and looked around – she saw endless miles of undulating moor land stretching away forever, to the grey sky and beyond. A breeze blew but it wasn’t cold, quite mild in fact. She jumped down with agility onto the grass; she wore a one-piece silver figure hugging space suit making her look hot, hot, hot. She walked under her disc to check the damage to the hull, counting 83 small dints in the exotic alloy where Sarah’s bullets had hit home. Sarah was an excellent shot. Touching the hull with her left hand she closed her eyes and whispered exotic incantations known only to Her, Juniper’s Daughter. She felt the dents under her naked fingers move; opening her eyes she watched them slowly dissolve like liquid mercury to dissipate into the smooth metal surface like they were never there. Satisfied Juniper’s Daughter decided to give the inhabitants of a small town a dozen miles away something to talk about. She shut her eyes to focus her thoughts and power, the small doorway closed and her beautiful disc disappeared – invisible! Juniper’s Daughter slowly levitated herself into the air to move forward fifty feet above the moor; many sightings of an apparition and aliens would follow…

John and Sarah had a beer or ten in the front room of the house, their home, heavy gothic metal blasted out of the speakers to soothe their ragged souls. They needed it after the day that they had just experienced; the booze was running low and would finish tonight but in a good session. They had more food left but it was running low too so something had to be done, John suggested hunting. Sarah choked on her five year old beer and laughed till she cried, managing to splutter: “Hunting my dear John? Who do you think you are, Robin Hood?”

“Well it’s just an idea, you got anything better?” he replied pulling a face.

“Yea, how about stealing that UFO and using the laser cannon to shoot sheep and eat them?” Sarah commented flatly.

“You crazy woman, nothing but crap!”

“I’m serious my love, how about it? It’s sure to show up again and we could just hop in and away we go…” she didn’t finish her sentence, she fell off the wooden chair she was sat on, John roared with laughter! What a crazy bitch! Finishing his beer he carried the pissed up girl upstairs, her eyes rolled in her head and she was bolloxed, he wasn’t far behind. Leaving the music to finish he ignored the loud noise and placed Sarah on their bed, he undressed himself, scratched his balls feeling his cock go hard as he watched Sarah doze on the bed, still fully clothed. He wanked himself just enough to hover on the edge of an orgasm, a little bit of cum dripped from his cock. He bent over Sarah and undressed her being careful not to wake her, when she was naked John placed her on her back and gently opened her legs. Her pussy was quite moist for some reason, this helped greatly, he needed less Lube 2000 to make himself slide up her. His big hard nine-inch cock glided up her cunt, it was a joy to behold and he loved it! He was home now and he pumped his woman gently, his thrusts going ever so deeper into her cunt, this was John’s favourite place in the whole wide world. Sarah’s body noticed it was being made love to, she moaned long and low in her drunken sleep as John took her, raped is wife without her permission. She was open minded so wouldn’t mind. He was on the edge of coming, he slowed his thrusts until he thrust ever so slowly once every twenty seconds, then he started to cum, he thrust into Sarah like a rampant rabbit. She woke up now and her body was in the midst of an orgasm, she screamed in joy and shock moving her body with John trying to look him in the eye but she was so pissed. He finished her orgasm and went down to munch her pussy, it tasted fishy but he didn’t mind he got on with it making her cum again as she slipped into sleep. Hell, the woman’s body was a miracle of flesh and lust! Just then there was a knock on the window! Who the fuck was this? He finished eating pussy before staggering to his feet and going to the window, on the second floor of the remote farmhouse to open the curtains. First he didn’t see anything due to the darkness but distant moonlight from the half moon gave some illumination – hovering before the window was a figure clad in a silver suit of some kind, a real fucking alien! John shouted and then collapsed in shock and alcohol, out cold till the morning, Sarah slept like a log. Outside the ghostly figure slowly disappeared into the night, did it disappear or fade away?

In the new dawn light a large silver object roared past the house with enough speed to shake the entire structure, arcing round in a huge arc the object slowed to a hover and landed on the uncut front grass to the side of the house. The occupant emerged and went to the front door and knocked, when no reply came she knocked louder until the door opened. She announced, “Greetings John and Sarah, I’m Juniper’s Daughter. It’s a pleasant to meet you!”

Chapter10 Meeting

Who the fuck was this, the goddamn postman? Fuck, there was no post anymore! Who was it, the English army wanting payback for their Chinook? With gun in hand John opened the door and was ready for anything, well almost… he was amazed, shocked and speechless at the beautiful blond woman standing there before him. She was… beautiful and sooo nice, Sarah was something but this woman was something else. John was about to speak when the lady greeted him and Sarah (who was still in bed) with kindness and politeness. John stammered back, “Good afternoon or whatever time it is. Who are you?”

“Why my dear I’m Juniper’s Daughter. I’m here to help you both,” Juniper’s Daughter answered with no cares in the world, totally innocently.

“Erm… you better come in then I suppose,” John said in his rich northern accent. He stepped aside and held the door open, the porch door was left open all the time he was lazy. John called Sarah five times to get a reaction from her, she was so lazy! He placed the pistol on the sideboard and shouted again, not wanting to leave the strange guest, his head spun with questions and crap like this just isn’t possible. After an age Sarah appeared at the top of the stairs, she was a sight with hair all over the place and tired half shuteyes. She said, “What John?” in that tone of voice that men just hate.

“We have a guest here Sarah, to see us both for some reason.”

“Fuck me! It’s still early, I wanted another three hours in bed!”

“Well I can’t help that, can I? She’s here now…”

“I can see that, who is she?”

“She said she was Juniper’s Daughter. Get ready and come down Sarah.”

“Fuckin’ Hell! This can’t be happening!”

“It is, get a move on…”

“It’s quite all right Sarah take your time, I’m sorry to interrupt your sleep,” Juniper’s Daughter apologised. Sarah stood at the top of the stairs in this rather exceptionally odd situation, she had trouble focusing due to still being pissed and tired, she didn’t move but listened to John and the stranger talk. She said she was Juniper’s Daughter, was this true? The stranger urged her to get ready there was no rush she would normally disagree with this and argue with this and argue but for some reason Sarah didn’t. She turned and walked into the bathroom throwing down the sheet she covered her naked body with onto the tiled floor. Sarah gripped the tap and with difficulty twisted the old discoloured tap, pipes creaked shooting dirty stagnant water from the vibrating clunking tap. Sarah turned on the hot tap letting both run full for ten minutes, slowly it cleared and she rinsed the bath poring in some Mr Muscle cleaner to take out years old dirt and scum. Rinsing the bath three times she was satisfied and filled it up with cold and tepid water, no hot due to the tank not being powered from the mains. Later she decided to speak to John to see if he could rig a car battery to warm up the water, it was a long shot but worth checking out. And she would clean the bathroom fully when she had time, this was a promise she made herself, along with the entire house for it was their home now and had to be treated as one. Sarah grimaced as she stepped into cold water she wasn’t use to this! Not even the water in Oldham was cold; moonshine heaters gave some warm water. The previous people must have done it this way for months if not years. Taking a bottle of shampoo from the side she squinted at it – it had separated into layers which she could see through the clear plastic. She threw it to the floor and picked another bottle, this was all right; she shook it and put more than enough onto her matted dirty unkempt hair. After half an hour of scrubbing her hair looked better and felt like a trillion dollars, she used some shower gel that was okay to wash her lithe sexy body. The soap by the sink was horrible, all cracked and discoloured with a fly stuck on it, yuk! Water coursed over Sarah’s lovely body between her breasts, over the bullet scar on her left shoulder – a neat exit hole and bigger exit wound. She massaged her stiff shoulder till full movement came back, then she played with herself ten minutes of pure joy. Later she dried herself, got dressed in mismatched Aldi clothes and joined John and the stranger downstairs. Sarah felt awkward and shy. Why? This was her home.

As Sarah got ready John sat opposite Juniper’s Daughter in the front room, he got down to business straight away taking charge of the situation, “So you are her then?”

“Yes I am. Juniper’s Daughter,” Juniper’s Daughter confirmed.

“That was you at the window last night knocking? It was the second floor. You scared the shit out of me,” John challenged her with a defiant stern gaze, his eyes not leaving hers. She held his look.

“Yes that was I. I had to get your attention. It worked, yes?” she replied.

“Yes you could say that. And the lights at night? And the UFO buzzing us, that your doing too?” he interrogated her.

“Yes to both. I had to announce my presence to you both, or I feel you wouldn’t believe me. My meeting with you is very important, as you both are to me,” Juniper’s Daughter explained, “and the jeep you drove, don’t do so again.”

“What do you mean? That we’re important to you? And the jeep?” John frowned.

“I’ll tell you more when Sarah joins us. The jeep belongs to the Devil by the way, did you see the fuel gauge?” she ended as Sarah joined them. She sat down next to John.

“Good morning Sarah, I was just explaining some things to John. I’ll explain the important stuff to you now you’re both together.”

“Okay then,” was all Sarah said.

“I need you to both do a magic ritual with me to stop the killing and evil sweeping the land, your help is very important because you have worked for the Devil but not surrendered to him, not yet. The jeep you drove was his to lure you into is power and grasp,” Juniper’s Daughter explained to a shocked duo, “it very nearly worked. You see, every bit of killing or destruction by a weapon or object belonging to the Devil makes him stronger and more dangerous thus increasing his chances of coming to power here, in your cherished much fought over land.”

“That’s a lot to take in,” Sarah gasped.

“Well I could go on but I wont. This is a battle as old as time itself, right now the light is fading to darkness. Maybe it’s too late to stop him, we can but try when we do our ritual,” Juniper’s Daughter continued.

“When we do the ritual?” John asked.

“Yes, is there a problem with you joining us? Are you scared?” Juniper’s Daughter baited the big fighter, drawing him in.

“I’m not scared, no fuckin’ way! I don’t believe in this hocus pocus bullshit,” he retaliated.

“Yes but why don’t you believe? Don’t you believe in other worlds, other powers? Further than you can see and touch?” the witch asked. She held out left her hand with fingers outstretched. And closed her eyes and chanted half whispered incantations to herself but in no way shy at being heard or seen by the duo. Nothing happened for a full five minutes, John was restless but he didn’t move in fear of offending their guest, intruder. Then it happened, a white light glowed in her skin, under the skin, it slowly grew brighter until her hand wasn’t visible but a ball of white pure light. This was the energy of the universe, the cosmos and of life, the witch was able to tap into this and demonstrate to John and Sarah her tricks of the trade that there was more to life than knock on wood. Moving her arm moved the bright white light up and down, she threw the light into the air and caught it in her other hand. This disappeared like before. John gasped and said, “Trickery. Nothing but a trick,” his eyes weren’t so sure.

“Well it looks impressive but what is it?” Sarah enquired.

“The light of the universe and of life itself, just visible when someone with the touch focuses their energy and brings it to the visible, your, world,” Juniper’s Daughter said.

“Is it harmful?” Sarah asked.

“No not when handled properly but in the wrong hands it can be a killer,” she replied. Looking at John the witch passed him the ball of white light, he held it looking rather scared but briefly smiled when he wasn’t harmed. He was one more step convinced, being drawn in to Juniper’s Daughter’s plan to stop the Devil.

“May I John?” Sarah whispered. She held out her hands and John passed her the ball of light, it glowed so brightly like a fire, no brighter, like nothing seen before. The light lit up the room as if it was the sun. Sarah smiled like a child seeing the moon for the first time, she was in rapture. Yes this was real…

Three hours and several other demos later John was a believer too, he had never seen anything like this before, this made Harry Potter look like General Custer, a real pussy with made up shit and no oomph to back it all up. John liked the magic wand Juniper’s Daughter had with a single large crystal on the end and others mounted below it, she showed the duo how it worked channelling magical power to a potent tip of the needle point of energy to do good or bad. As a weapon it would equal any energy beam/laser in capability, of course it must never be used like that or karma would be a real slow burning motherfucker. Her wand pulsated like an overly erect penis being twitched up and down, the crystal lit up from deep within with energy and light, it didn’t change shape that was an illusion. Suddenly two green crystals were at the tip of the wand, in the blink of an eye they disappeared leaving the single clear stone, illusion? John thought the witch wasn’t telling all. He didn’t ever want to be on the wrong side of the wand, energy, spells or whatever, she was a real magical goddess of untold power. Sarah knew now of another world next to and in parallel to the physical one she knew, it was very rare for it to be visible like this so she now had witnessed something special. The witch spoke, “Sarah and John I have now showed you a little bit of my power, come and I’ll show you something far more interesting and spectacular.”

“What can be better than that?” Sarah gasped.

“You’ll see in a minute,” answered the healer, standing up and leading them outside onto the grass. Nothing was visible but scudding clouds high overhead and the onset of night but when the witch clicked her fingers something happened, a trick of the light? Something shimmered in an instant and into focus came an object, like a blurry film coming into focus in the pre-digital age. Then it was visible. “Mother fucker! It was you all the time, it really was! Is this thing real?” John whispered.

“Holy shit! Would you look at that?” Sarah shouted looking at the witch, who nodded and replied, “Go and have a look, it’s okay I promise.”

John held Sarah’s hand and led him slowly to the silver flying disc, which was stationery a few feet off the ground, visible to them all in stunning clarity. John reached up to touch the shiny hull, it was smooth as polished glass and similar in looks just like a mirror, he tapped it and it was solid, not imaginary. Sarah touched the machine, she drew breath as she realised what it was, the flying disc she had nearly shot down. She couldn’t see any bullet holes or damage. Juniper’s Daughter briefly read her mind and said, “Your bullets hit home, dented the outer hull but I was able to repair it easily enough.”

“My god! I don’t believe this, it’s amazing!” Sarah said.

“No damage, nothing. Must be strong,” John queried.

“Exotic alloys and other materials resistant to most things make up the crafts construction, yes it’s very strong,” the witch confirmed. She joined the duo next to the craft, “Do you want to go inside? For a flight? It’s quite safe.”

“Erm… I don’t know,” Sarah hesitated, glancing at John for support. He decided the outcome: “Yes, we only live once. Lets do it!”

“Follow me then.”

With her left hand Juniper’s Daughter touched the hull and an opening appeared as if from nowhere, she climbed aboard without difficulty. John looked up into the dark interior and thought fuck it! And lifted himself up into the disc, he held his hand down to Sarah and lifted her up with no effort. In the darkness the dusk light was strongly visible through the opening until with no warning it closed and darkness reigned king, Sarah heard her own heart beat like a hammer, John was mildly concerned but went with it. Dim hazy violet light appeared from nowhere and everywhere giving a faint glow and illumination so the humans could see. The witch must be able to see in the dark, was she a fucking cat John wondered? A window appeared ahead of them, square and curved matching the hull outline, the witch confirmed this was only for John and Sarah to view the flight and where they were heading. Normally the craft was flown by thought alone with nothing physically visible from the inside, the window wasn’t visible from outside she confirmed. Sitting in a comfy reclining chair Juniper’s Daughter moved her hand and indicated to her guests to sit on the nice double couch and get comfy. Was this just for them? Then the fun begun, slowly they lifted up from the field near the house and gently climbed up into the heavens at a steady rate, not at all dizzying or sickening. Forward movement came equally slowly, a speed Sarah guessed at sixty mph, just to show them the basics. How fast could this thing really go? Out over the moor they flew losing vision as the clouds and mist obscured their view, this soon cleared and streams and a small lake was visible below, a ruined farm along with rusty tractor and farm vehicles snailed past. Over the edge of the moor and a steep hillside was visible making way for fields and grassland not tended in more than a decade, left to nature. Climbing for height more came into view, a small village with two-dozen houses many with slates missing and an old church, shop and ruined up, no one was about. More fields and rivers and a reservoir (did they pass this?) over whose surface they hugged increasing speed tremendously to zoom over the opposite bank in seconds, pulling up into a sickening zoom climb, no feeling of gravity or g-force though, quite enjoyable in fact. Levelling off and losing speed the disc crept along again and through the window a town was visible with some light from some houses and other buildings, a few fires burned in the main street. John stared closely wondering what town it was, Sarah said, “Carlisle. I recognise the street layout and derelict buildings from Scottish attacks.”

“Hell yes. I was based twenty miles east of here in the war,” John commented.

“We have covered two hundred of your earth miles in minutes,” Juniper’s Daughter confirmed.

“This is some machine, it really is,” John said in awe.

“I’m glad people still live in Carlisle after all these years and such trouble,” Sarah quietly said.

“You see there is still hope,” the witch replied, “some of my work has been up here. People even trade with towns over the border in Scotland now, there is no fighting and forgiveness is slowly taking away the evil. I still have to be wary of the Devil though.”

“The Devil? The same one who gave us the jeep and is evil and all that?” John gasped.

“Yes the same one. My work is far from over,” Juniper’s Daughter answered, “we can make a small difference now in the balance of things. Would you like to do that? Juniper’s Daughter suggested.

“Like what? How would we do that?” Sarah asked looking at the witch, puzzled by the idea. Was she mad?

“Well… do you know that the English army still has nuclear weapons? Not all were used against France in the war, some were left over.”

“I had an idea but no hard intel on it,” Sarah exclaimed.

“How many bombs are left and where are they?” John asked, his face a hard grimace. This was nasty business; nukes were one of his specialities.

“At one location under heavy guard on a secret base,” the witch explained.

“How do you know this?” Sarah asked.

“Because I am Juniper’s Daughter. Do you know what will happen if the bombs are used? More killing and destruction like what happened before, until nothing is left. This time that would be true, not just a saying.”

“How do we stop that? What’s your idea?” John enquired.

“Let me explain. Because you destroyed the army base near Manchester their power base is reduced in that area. If another base is lost then the army will lose control of the country, then they would use their last nuclear weapons and not care on who or where. Carlisle would be hit, you saw yourselves how life continues there, I’m sure you don’t want it to be destroyed,” she explained. Silence descended.

“Are you planning or suggesting an attack? To steal or destroy the base and weapons? Using the disc?” Sarah gasped, unsure if this was true but very sure it was possible with the advanced space vehicle.

“Not exactly as you imagine. It would be simple, we fly over the base totally invisible, use our gravity lifter to steal the nukes and safety comes to the whole landmass. We can put the bombs someplace very distant like the centre of the sun.”

“You gotta be kidding!” John shouted.

“No, this craft can do that,” the witch confirmed.

“Okay lets do it then. When?” Sarah smirked elbowing John who grinned back. He loved shit like this.

“How about now? There’s no time like the present. Fly there invisible, steal the bombs while not being caught, zoom to the sun and back in time for tea,” Juniper’s Daughter announced as she guided the flying saucer over the mountains of the English Lake District, flying to the secret base. The Irish Sea came up as they passed over the coast, descending lower, seeing a few people beachcombing or fishing. Some looked up as they thought something shot over them, just out of their vision, invisible, nothing there.

To the Isle of Man, now a military fortified island equipped with an airbase for helicopters that patrolled the north of England, the sea and the outer limits of Welsh and Scottish territory. Small patrol boast patrolled the seas trying to stop arms smuggling to England, often engaging Irish, Welsh and Scots craft in gun and missile engagements. Two thousand men were garrisoned on the island, just in case, along with light armour and a huge arsenal of weapons including the last nuclear weapons England possessed. Land based in silos taken from old Trident subs used to hit France, the vessels were long sunk but their remaining weapons were here. Six missiles with up to ten bombs nearly sixty in all. Could the weapons be stolen and taken somewhere far? John never knew so many weapons existed and that the island was a fortress, so heavily armed and guarded. This mission had to be done, successfully. Sarah didn’t want the remains of her country to be obliterated, enough of that had gone on before; it had to stop for good. Below them the faint outline of an island appeared – they were here, the Isle of Man, a place like Okinawa or Iwo Jima or Guadalcanal armed to the mother fuckin’ teeth with the English army being the ones with the toys. Would they use them? What do you think? But fun always reigned supreme and John wanted a bit of the pie with extra salt and sugar and jam, fuck being pc. He spoke: “Hey, Juniper’s Daughter, how about some fun? Like flying slowly overhead and letting them see us. We’re safe aren’t we?”

“Yes we are safe but why let them see us?” she said frowning.

“Coz we are in the meanest machine in the universe and they are cunts!” Sarah answered for John, he added, “They won’t fuck with us, they’ll be outclassed and know the game is up. They wont give up but they can’t win either, change will sweep them forth like a tide.”

“You are right John, you are a wise man. You have your wish, hold on you two,” Juniper’s Daughter replied touching a silver bit of metal to control the ship and change things, making them visible to the army below. In the command centre sixty metres below ground a blip appeared on a screen, panic spread amongst the staff as an unknown target flew overhead. Weapon systems came alert and staff did their duty loading gun systems and priming missiles to shoot the intruder down, fingers pushed red buttons and explosive filled devices shot into the sky.

Onboard the disc John asked Juniper’s Daughter for something to shoot back with. She grimaced and touched the metal control to do whatever it did, nothing visible happened but John knew something would. In the command bunker much was happening, radar operators informed their leaders and more orders were issued, guns were armed as the disc came closer to follow on from the automatic missiles that had a longer reach of six miles. White smoke filled the grey sky like long fingers reaching out, two missiles went wide not locking onto the silver saucer, these detonated when their small electronic brains saw no target to follow. Four other missiles converged onto the disc and hit it at two thousand miles an hour, huge yellow fire balls shot out sending deadly metal shrapnel far and wide, by a miracle of unknown science the disc flew on unscathed. Every soldier below saw the flying disc, some knew of if and had heard of the loss of the heavy Chinook helicopter when trying to intercept the disc before over Yorkshire. Not brought down by the disc but by gunfire from an old military vehicle manned by freedom fighters in the area, in time they must be caught and executed for their crimes. Nothing could be allowed to undermine the army power base, not freedom fighters or the UFO. FIRE! The order was given, every single gun from pistol to machine gun to cannon to howitzer fired at the disc, tracer fire arced up and over and below the disc then found the target, rounds sparking and flashing as they hit. High Explosive shells exploded around the disc triggered by proximity fuses sending blast waves and shrapnel out in a deadly cloud. Shoulder fired missiles sped forth on trails of dirty brown smoke, two were not aimed or had failed to lock, these flew two miles blind before detonating in orange flashes ceasing to exist. Three locked on and bore down on the turning disc and hit with loud bangs. Nothing happened! The disc shuddered and kept on course, suddenly green laser fire beamed down over the base, a pretty sight causing mayhem. Radar and other sensors burned out, antennas melted, soldiers boiled alive and turned to ash as they fired. The disc flew off and came around again for a second attack; return fire was much less and not on target. Laser fire silently flashed over the above ground barracks block incinerating it, turning the brick building to smoking black ash. The hardened concrete store of conventional weapons burned up after six seconds of pretty green laser fire, secondary explosions added to the light show soon dying out. Such was the ferocity of the attack, vehicle storage park, repair garage, comms radio aerials and sat dishes all went up. Over to the harbour, a two thousand ton army destroyer went up in a geyser of steam, melted metal and exploding ordnance, it turned turtle and sank in two minutes. Twenty small patrol craft flared like lit matches, no one survived. Onto the airbase and helicopters were left melted piles of alloy, 38 in all of various types. The English army had no vehicles, ammo or weapons to fight back with, they were neutralised John’s idea was pure genius. “Excellent results” was all he said, Sarah remained silent, the witch smiled grimly. Evil was being extinguished by violence in a means to an end; there was no alternative if the job had to be done – to steal the nukes.

Juniper’s Daughter let go of the large metal control, shaped like a huge silver penis, and closed her eyes – thought guidance now. She knew where the nukes were stored, in a simple silo complex next to the highest peak on the island. From the ground the UFO just disappeared becoming invisible, if any radar were working no blip would be seen they were a ghost. On board John and Sarah sat on the nice comfy couch and watched the ground blur into a green rush for a time, then stop, they felt no movement, no acceleration or g-force. They were over the silos housing the missiles, not visible to anyone. Juniper’s Daughter brought up the view of the silos and for affect superimposed a red cross over them and looked at John and Sarah who held her gaze and nodded together. Using the gravity lift and matter distortion beam the witch brought the nukes out of their silos like child’s play. They were visible to the naked human eye just appearing from their silos to float up into the air so effortlessly and slowly to disappear into the saucer. This could have been done in stealth but she wanted the site guards to witness the theft and disappearance of their missiles. No one would have believed them but with the attack on the base, everyone would. Only a few small arms were left, the English army was an army without weapons, useless and out of control, all but destroyed, stranded on the Isle of Man. Now off to the Sun through outer space to get rid of the nasty missiles, a real trip to the stars!

“No more innocents killed or remaining towns and cities destroyed,” Juniper’s Daughter said.

“Yes, you, we did a great job. It had to be done,” John commented.

“It was a good idea of yours to hit the base. Now the English army have no means to attack us or anyone else. Peace can truly start, at long last,” Sarah lamented with watery eyes.

“One more thing needs to be done after we return from the Sun, the ritual,” the witch said, “but don’t worry, you will be safe in my hands.”

They flew to the Sun, a trip that took two hours in all. John and Sarah sat on the comfy couch in each others arms as the flying saucer zoomed through the sky climbing at a steep angle that made John feel sick and Sarah shut her eyes. Up and up through the grey sky leaving the clouds behind to shoot up through the blue yonder, touching delicate Cirrus clouds eight miles up, leaving them behind and coming to the dark blue, then midnight blue, purple and black seeing the curvature of the earth when the witch switched the viewing screen to the rear view, just a glimpse. It was enough to make you crazy! Leaving the Earth’s atmosphere and entering space, curving round to face the sun – a distant yellow ball of fire almost stationary. It slowly grew when Juniper’s Daughter increased speed to near maximum and away they went, the massive disc of fire grew until it filled the vision panel, it wasn’t too bright though, there must be some sort of way to stop this Sarah thought. John marvelled at the experience, going through space in a real space ship! Just crazy! Half an hour into the trip Juniper’s Daughter came out of her trance and opened her eyes smiling at the duo, she announced, “My ship is on what you call automatic pilot and will take us to the Sun, there I will take over and guide us into the orbit to drop the missiles and destroy them. Our job will be done then.”

“How long will it take us to get to the Sun?” John asked.

“Not long, just over twenty minutes and we’ll be there,” the witch replied smiling.

“How will the nukes be dropped into the Sun?” Sarah wanted to know. Was it safe?

“We will fly into an orbit just above the surface, there I will release the weapons down to be captured by the gravity of the star which will pull them in. On hitting the surface they will burn up and be destroyed. The technique is just like when we stole them but in reverse. There is no danger to us. You will see some spectacular views but please don’t be afraid, we are perfectly safe, as is our ship,” Juniper’s Daughter reassured the duo.

“Thanks for that, I didn’t want to ask but I was a bit concerned,” John replied cautiously. He visibly relaxed with the knowledge.

“Yes don’t worry John, you may even enjoy it!” she continued.

“How fast are we going?” Sarah asked.

“We are going one third the speed of light Sarah. This craft can go much, much faster but I prefer a slow speed. The trip is more enjoyable, it feels more of a journey,” the witch said.

“Wow! Some flying saucer if it can go that fast,” Sarah wondered in awe.

“Whom did this ship belong to? Was it yours before?” John queried.

“It has been mine for five thousand years, it belonged to the Star People who came to your planet and built the pyramids with the help of these craft. This one was left behind, lets just say I borrowed it,” Juniper’s Daughter explained, frowning at the questions.

“What the fuck? You mean aliens built the pyramids? With things like this? Mother fucker!” Sarah gasped; this was just amazing and unreal.

“I cant take anymore of this in, it’s all too crazy to believe,” John said.

“John my dear friend, there is much you don’t understand. I have told you this fragment to help you understand the breadth and depth of all of this. Now don’t you see, why your race can’t be allowed to wipe itself out with these disgusting weapons? We must work to preserve life and your precious planet, not ruin it. There is a global village, a really huge but very delicate network of intelligent races in the universe and cosmos. When the time is ready, humankind will meet them. But not just yet. You are all not ready. We have a job to do now…”

The duo was speechless but that wasn’t surprising, it was one hell of a fucking speech, just like Jesus saying, “I’ll be back” after watching Arnie in Terminator2. They came into orbit around the sun, a huge orange glow filling the screen, flames leaping up and past and around and over them, huge solar flares of impressive size and power. The craft slowed and shuddered and turned and stopped - the nukes dropped away into the Sun’s orbit to plunge into the six thousand degree surface where they flared and exploded as the solid rocket fuel ignited and the warheads melted adding to the nuclear fusion chain reaction of the Sun. Adding to the nuclear fire and sunlight that beamed down onto the Earth, a positive from a negative, good defeating evil. Slowly the disc moved again and picked up speed, not a word was said, as this was a silent moment saving millions of lives and countless destruction. If only this could have been done before the nuclear war between England and France, one thing the witch couldn’t do was turn back time and alter the past. She wished she could but not even a Goddess of Mother Nature could do that, it was a wish and nothing more…

Later, almost centuries later it seemed, the disc landed in the field near the duo’s house. Farewells were made and the witch promised to return in two months time, she had more work to do in France, Wales and Scotland. Then it would be ritual time. John and Sarah watched the flying saucer slowly climb into the overcast sky, hover for a second and shoot off at incredible speed, lost from sight. Walking into the house they had a last bottle of beer and a meal of chicken soup mixed with beans, silence reigned as neither knew what to say but both knew that history had been made, nothing before would ever compare to this.

Chapter11 Juniper’s Daughter

Juniper’s Daughter was born out of the primeval fires that formed Planet Earth before all life existed, she was as old as time itself and gained such understandings of life, death and rebirth from the beginning of her existence. She was born from her Mother Juniper who existed from a time even before her daughter, before the stars were born, from the time before. At first nothing existed other than energy fields formed and matter came into existence, nothing more than atoms but they grouped together and formed something that was more than nothing. Over time stars formed with accompanying planets, huge balls of swirling gas taking shape, forming, cooling, gaining an atmosphere of gas – evil noxious clouds of dangerous chemicals. In this mix something more happened, chemical reactions gave birth to something more than a reaction, something happened, early magic occurred and life was born. This was one aspect of Juniper’s Daughter, she had no body or sex just an existence, an energy pattern coming into focus just as her Mother had done. Her role was to look after the new world being created, what was to become Planet Earth, out of the darkness came life and Juniper’s Daughter was an extension of Juniper, who herself had kept the darkness at bay. When the lava cooled and the nasty atmosphere of base gas changed, early life came into being; over billions of years a planet became green and blue and had a miracle of being in the right place at the right time. Any further from the Sun the planet would be an icy ball, any nearer, a scorched cinder. As life became more advanced Juniper’s Daughter worked in conjunction with humankind, for she was an extension Mother Nature (who was Juniper) and all powerful and giver of life. Humankind became more greedy using and abusing the planet and themselves, Juniper’s Daughter had to step in so many times and try to guide and help people to keep away from the Devil’s path for he was the mortal enemy of everything that she represented. He was death, evil, manipulation, murder, killing, rape, violence, war and a hundred other bad things of varying degrees. She was life, rebirth, forgiveness, hope, love and so many more in equal opposite to Him, Satan. Juniper’s Daughter had lived many times before since early people walked the earth, she had been killed and murdered and committed suicide more times that she would have liked. This was part of her role as a supreme being who walked the earth striving to stop evil and keep the balance amongst all things, she was skilled in negotiations to stop violence, had excellent magical power, she connected to her folk memory of her past selves to delve into all that knowledge and power to deal with any situation. She was a dangerous fighter and had a capability to show no mercy when this was needed, when confronting soldiers of the Devil who knew just what they were doing. She would strike these down if she had no other option, if there was no chance of negotiation or if she was in mortal danger. Over the years and lifetimes her skills grew, she was reborn at random times after her death, many of these lives were over quickly and in others she didn’t have enough time. Yet she never gave up and always continued her work, her sole calling before her own personal gratification and happiness. As a lover she knew no competition, she was the best there was and men of all ages and faiths and jobs wanted her, a few were lucky enough too, even with women Juniper’s Daughter was of great experience. Having an open mind was one of her positive points along with being loving, caring, kind and compassionate, she was not the evil one, she was life, death, birth and rebirth, she was everything. In human form she was now on earth again doing her work and her Mother’s wishes, helping the needy and the wretched, stopping evil and the Devil doing his dastardly deeds. She was always busy but never unhappy, often sad over the wickedness of Mankind’s actions when he waged war and killed for no reason, she was happy when a new baby was born and when a tree came into bloom. She was celebrated in poetry and song and verse and in literature and in magic, she was never ending without beginning, she was Juniper’s Daughter who had lived a thousand, a million times before and would do so again.

Now she was blond and had stunning blue eyes like a mountain pool deep and full of life and secrets and hidden mystery waiting to be found. Every man wanted to be her lover, quite a few were and even a few women. She was a celebratory not wanting the fame but just to do, to work and be creative, an opposite of destructive. She did her best and had done so much before now, this moment but she could remember everything as if it was yesterday, for hers was a folk memory connected to herself and her past lives and her sisters and her Mother. She needed all of her skills to stop the Devil and his actions of taking over the minds of men and their fragile world, turning it into ashes and darkness. Yet she knew everything was in a cycle and she would only be successful for so long, that light would only shine for a short time before darkness came and snuffed it out like a million lives in a candle breath. She was a warrior when the situation demanded and had killed thousands of people, in battle to preserve her and to protect her minions and subject – the innocent from tyranny and oppression and communism. Also she was able to end the life or the mortally wounded by giving mercy, a swift passage to the other side and into eternal peace. This was the bit of the job she didn’t like but it was a necessary act to do, she did this without hesitation overcoming personal feelings in moments.

Juniper’s Daughter was a Goth girl like the ones back in the musical past when there was a society and people and music, she was Anne Marie Hurst of The Elementals, Skeletal Family and Ghost Dance, she was Julianne Regan of All About Eve, Anneke van Giersbergen of The Gathering, Cristina Scabbia of Lacuna Coil, even Susie Hoffs of The Bangles. She was everything celebrated in song, everything of beauty that held men in womens power, everything mysterious and more, a million and one things unsaid, this was Juniper’s Daughter. Here was something very, very special… if Nazi Germany had managed to capture her in World War2 we would all be speaking German and driving Kraut cars(what? We do already, okay…). She took part in that conflict, only if she was in mysterious playful moods, foo fighters anyone? She let mankind slug it out for the hell of it, some would be left to breed and continue the cycle and provide more work for her, if WW3 kicked off, now she would stop that. Everything would be killed in that and then the Devil won, period. So a contest of light and dark reigned absolute and Juniper’s Daughter was in the light corner. She was never to be mistaken for a lightweight though, never.

Her Mother was even more powerful, an all seeing deity that was of the planet and universe and stars and eternal secrets, the witch knew but not a percentage of her Mother’s knowledge. Enough to make a difference and no more that was all it took. This battle was a cycle that never ended continuing through the ages, aeons and centuries blending into legend, myth, then folklore but always there in the souls of every person who ever lived. Few could identify it but all had felt it at one time or another, true exponents were skilled in the divine arts of sorcery, witchcraft, divination, story telling through poem, story and song. Nothing but the total annihilation of every human being would end this cycle on Planet Earth, would that ever happen? Only the Gods and Goddesses knew the eventual outcome but Juniper, Mother of Juniper’s Daughter was forbidden to tell her daughter due to humankind being responsible for its own fate and destiny. Juniper’s Daughter had stopped many wars, skirmishes, murders, acts of hate, revenge and a thousand other evil deeds, she had been killed almost a thousand times and been reborn as many plus one. This was the highest act of magic possible, the power of a Goddess, Juniper herself and Juniper’s Daughter’s Mother – the most mightily powerful deity the world had ever seen, or would see. She was Mother Nature, as old as time itself and as linear as space and time combined, the endless circle of life and death and rebirth, a heady combination more potent than any drug or illegal substance. Her sexuality was fatal to any man or woman if she chose it to be, it was of great use stopping men kill or murder each other. Juniper’s Daughter was the maiden, pure, lustful, sexual, erotic and loveable in an instant, her most potent tool was not her magical spells but her invocations of pure unconditional love, nothing touched this, not even total darkness put out by her most fatal enemy, the Devil. He was the most dangerous opponent to her, her Mother or to humankind; his tricks, deception and deviousness had tricked and manipulated millions of people, even the witch at times. He had killed the witch on numerous occasions, she had him also but were the scales even or about to tip into darkness or light? Time would tell if the light of Juniper’s Daughter or the dark of the Devil reigned supreme when this battle was over. Then it would start all over again, ever so slowly like sand falling down an hourglass one grain at a time until the cycle was complete. It would always be like this, the wheel of life spinning through the aeons of time, a single human lifetime was nothing to that, not even a grain of dust yet each life was priceless and unique. Why was it squandered and wasted like water down the drain then? It was a flaw in people, that simple. Juniper’s Daughter was a woman, she represented women from time immemorial and understood everything about the female species, also of men for she couldn’t do her work if she was just one sided.

When she met John, Lee and Sarah in the second decade of the 21^st Century she was a stunning blond in her mid twenties with many skills learned in many lifetimes, she used her flying disc she stole from aliens many hundreds of years ago. She had advanced skills to pilot this vessel gleaned from hundreds of years of covert practice and experience. Her Mother at first disapproved of her using the ship but it was ideal for quick effortless travel from one point to another almost instantaneously. It could provide a great distraction to foretell a new beginning, for example mysterious lights in the sky capturing people’s attention. This happened in the trio of freedom fighters lives, the start of great new events in which everyone were a part each having a duty to do, hopefully for the positive. Her job was to guide the easily manipulated away from the darkness, the ones who chose darkness she offered one chance, if refused she gave them no mercy and expected none in return. She waged total war if she needed to. This wasn’t that often, magic, incantations, on the ground interaction and word of mouth were much more successful.

One major example where the witch changed humankinds’ destiny was averting WW3 in the winter of 2009. Georgia and the Ukraine were in NATO, new member states under the protective security umbrella. Russia had attacked Georgia in summer 08 and defeated the tiny nation, occupied its land under dubious reasons and caused general trouble. Loss of four warplanes was worth the long-term strategic goal – Russian troops on Georgian soil at two separate areas before the nation joined NATO. Leaders planned and waited, Georgia supported the Allies (USA and England) in Iraq with two thousand troops on peacekeeping duties. NATO membership was the next logical step, US/NATO troops were based at two Georgian bases and US Navy ships docked and used the major seaport as a base. Over the water Russian Black Sea fleet warships eyeballed the US Navy. Action came sooner than later, an “incident” led to the battle cruiser Peter the Great engaging the USS Ronald Reagan aircraft carrier with cruise missiles and rocket powered torpedoes, sinking it. In return the escorting Aegis class cruiser sank “Peter the Great” and two escorting destroyers. An uneasy pause followed then Russian planes hit Georgian and US/NATO military bases and other targets in Georgia. What forces survived the attack, in return attacked, Ukraine refused surviving Russian warships docking rights at the leased base at Sevastopol. Russia threatened Ukraine, a NATO member. Ukraine sank every remaining Russian vessel and occupied the crew barracks arresting every Russian military personnel on land. Russia hit Ukrainian targets; US/NATO hit Russia at selective points, then a pause to talk. Nuclear was a possibility but talks broke down, missiles were armed and several were launched – a total of 6 by NATO and 4 by Russia. Then, nothing! They never reached their targets, rumours spread like wildfire of UFOs, lights in the sky and ghostly apparitions had something to do with the disappearance of the nuclear missiles. An uneasy peace descended remaining for decades after, did anyone know what really happened? Where the missiles went? Something strange had happened, when the remainder were ordered to launch, all remained in their silos. Was it computer problems? Why had manual overrides failed? No human knew but a witch called Juniper’s Daughter did, she was too late to stop the English/French nuclear war but she won the big one. The Devil won the later round in 2013, she in 2010, if it was her Mother Juniper if would have been a different matter, the Devil would be kicked in the balls every fucking time but that wasn’t the case.

Juniper’s Daughter noticed how mankind had invented more lethal ways to kill his own race, from one man butchering a Vietnamese village to a bomber crew dropping one bomb on a city and killing a hundred thousand people in a blink of an eye. How far the flint axe had come, now hunting animals was outmoded, hunting himself was a bonus giving Old Nick more evil people to fill his dark caverns of Hell when the witch got hold of the evil ones. Heaven was a bit overcrowded and the builders up there weren’t paid overtime but what could they do? The Devil was a motherfucker who wanted to kill, he must have liked it or been a bit deranged, he was one evil character. There was too much work for the witch to do on her own, she had the skill of putting into some peoples’ minds positive thoughts to stop evil actions, for example cancelling a grenade launcher that fired three hundred 30mm grenades a second. The re-supply effort was a bitch and this was the reason given to stop the project, not the small thought of mass genocide of Iranian civilians when America The Great Satan invaded lodged in the chief designers mind. The witch was in some places when she was needed but she wasn’t able to be everywhere, cover each act of madness in the minds of men (and women) that was impossible. Her distractions with the flying disc were often enough to stop rebellion and tip the balance in a small war but not a major war, if ten thousand nuclear missiles were launched all together, it was game over mother fucker, permanently.

Her magical skills were passed down from early human kind by belief, folklore, myth and legend, her Mother’s teachings and her own experience. This built up to a formidable knowledge on every bit of human affairs and behaviour, there was nothing she didn’t understand or know. By connecting to the energy of the cosmos she was able to perform magic to further her aims in the goodwill of the world and of humankind to the light path, her enemy Satan pushed humankind down the darker path. Magic was the last great mystery of life; it was the last things saving humans from the drop into the black abyss and oblivion, the end of the world. Each culture predicted this but each got the date wrong, death, destruction, war, disaster and pestilence were equally forecast across continents and peoples. Everyone would suffer together over differing timeframes enduring the common purgatory of the Devil, one woman stood in his way – Juniper’s Daughter, doing her job as she had done from day number one.

In myth the oldest story was of how a being was born out of nothing, this was herself just following her Mother, born in a time way before man when the planet was a ball of hot burning gas and molten rock and lava and semi liquid metals. Chemical reactions took place and something that resembled a gas came into being, took on a form of its own and gained awareness. The most basic understanding of something, of not what, a fire flickering after the fires died down consuming its own energy, not that of the surrounding environment. What was this thing? It wasn’t Mother just quite yet, that would take millennia, aeons of time to form it into something that was of this world. The awareness took on a form, something happened inside its mainly invisible form to become greater than the environment it shared, raising itself out of it to become part of the sky and cosmos and universe and of a place even further than that – infinity. In time it took on sex, became of both sexes and self reproduced then becoming female, its offspring was of energy too. In time this energy would walk the earth and be called many things but for our story she has no name of her own just Juniper’s Daughter, sharing a fraction of her Mother’s power and wisdom and magical power, the will and way to control energy that was not visible or part of the material world but ran in conjunction to it, next to it on parallel lines. Was this science or Goddess lore or witchcraft? Or something else? Did that really matter? Over time as humanity walked the earth they needed something to believe in to protect them from the unseen terrors of the night and frightening demons of the day. She was their first and oldest deity, the strongest form of Goddess/God of pre-history. Planet Earth was becoming whole, with a deity, with people who had a consciousness, animals who were on a lower level and a myriad forms of energy, some seen most not. Time meant nothing to the witch but a book of knowledge to use to keep evil from the land and kingdom of her Mother. Juniper’s Daughter was half evil and half good but her Mother’s influence in the light swayed the darkness and kept it away from her precious child and their delicate mortal world. When mankind took it upon itself to annihilate itself the witch had a real job on her hands, her purpose had arrived and she would always be busy. Not once could she afford to let her guard drop to become complacent, this didn’t stop the witch being killed in a variety of ways all painful through the centuries. She understood death yet knew she had more than one chance of living again – unlike a mere mortal who had only one chance. This didn’t stop mankind killing his own kind, it made him even more ruthless and good at the bloody job of mass murder and death. Old Nick was fine on this, more people going to hell for murder and killing, just a few in heaven who were killed needlessly, a lot of the killers took their time on being admitted to hell. They lived and killed, dying eventually as shell shocked old men or killers who lost one too many fights and met His Highness of all Evil Death, the Devil. Juniper’s Daughter had met death, dodged it and been caught by it many times, being wounded was bad, this the witch least liked. Several times she had to commit suicide to end her own pain and suffering, it wasn’t easy being a witch. All of the old stories said so, Juniper’s Daughter would back it up.

Mother Nature was part of the witch, as she was part of it, her. As all women and people were, only they often forgot that living in ignorance and darkness. The witch was at one with the seasons, the planet, the population, with her Mother and even the Devil, for she had to understand her enemy. Juniper’s Daughter loved to dance naked and run through the trees in remote forests in even remoter places, often high on mountains with vertical cliffs. No mortal ventured onto these precipitous places but when you had such a craft as a flying saucer this was no problem. This could become invisible and no human eyes watched the manically mad witch run and laugh like a dervish through the trees hundreds of feet above the valley floor. Now and again Juniper’s Daughter would manifest herself as an apparition to further her aims, often being naked to really get male attention. This worked on several battlefields completely stopping the fighting result. Man was very easily distracted and led astray, this could be used to full advantage when the opportunity arose and she had a lovely sexy body. Her sexual experience was unbounded, even women lusted after the blond curvy lithe witch that often appeared from nowhere. She had enjoyed more lesbian experienced than even the most ardent lesbian had in an entire human lifetime, sexuality was a powerful tool when combined with many hundred lifetimes of remembered knowledge and experience.

One time in Los Angeles in 1986 when Juniper’s Daughter was involved in youth culture there trying to help troubled teens and 20s from self destructing the witch was brutally killed following a run in with some drug barons. There was a gig by The Bangles at a notorious alternative club on Sunset Boulevard in July on a humid evening that seemed to last forever. Darkness didn’t bring cool temperatures, tempers flared as fans queued up for tickets for the gig. The witch was red haired this time, dyed? She wore a cropped stone wash denim jacket with red buttons, a pink blouse that just hid her ample chest, a dark blue short flowing ra-ra type skirt that showed off her smooth ample legs and simple white summer shoes. She really was a pretty sight and all the boys looked at her with hungry eyes, even the girls noticed this casually dressed lady. Jealous of her looks, wanting to make love to her or just wondering how the fuck did she look so good in clothes that cost just fifty dollars? Some gals had it all…

An argument started when a ticket tout who looked like a Mexican pimp in a crumpled suit sold a kid a ticket but never gave the boy any change, a bitter argument broke out in which the boy lost. The Mex hit the lad in the face, kneed him in the belly and rammed his head against a wall. Girls screamed and what security was there turned a blind eye to the incident, the lad was on the floor moaning and crying out of it, the Mex pulled a dirty looking silver snub nose revolver out of his pocket and pointed it at the boy. Seeing this the witch calmly walked up to the Mex and slowly said, “Put the gun down, you might get hurt…” Jumping in surprise the pimp/tout aimed the gun at the boy and turned to face the witch who smiled and held out her hand to the evil man. He looked her up and down and laughed like a jackal, “Lady, take a hike or you will end up like him!” he replied in broken English. He looked back at the boy and removed the safety catch to complete the execution. No one disrespected Andreas Valeri, top Mexican bandido, pimp, thug and tout. As his finger took the first pressure on the trigger the witch kicked the pimp on his ass with her left foot, he fell forwards firing the gun at the same time, the bullet sparked on the sidewalk not six inches away from the moaning lad. Following it onto the ground was an unbalanced Mex who toppled over, next to the boy. Juniper’s Daughter spoke, “Apologise now!” she glared at the cowering man. “Do it now or you are in big trouble!”

“What? You want me to do what?!” the tout screamed in shock. He made to get up, a kick made him stay down, a worried look took his arrogant gaze away, his hand dropped the gun like an unwanted toy.

“Just say sorry and I will leave you in peace, I promise you,” Juniper’s Daughter quietly replied taking a step back, glancing at the crowd of punters who watched the strange scene in silence.

“Okay, okay have it your way. I’m sorry for what I did,” he answered looking up at the witch. “Happy now?”

“No, I’m not happy. Apologise to the boy, not to me. I don’t think you mean it!”

“Hey, fuck you! Fuck you and your sister and your mother and your dog!” screamed the sleazy immigrant going to pick up the gun so he could kill the interfering woman and the useless boy. His hand never touched the weapon for a snap kick to the side of his head laid him out on the tiles, unconscious. She knelt to check if he was alive and not faking. Then she examined the moaning boy, his nose was broken and his eye badly blackened, swelling up angrily.

“It’s okay, I’ll get someone to dial 911 and you’ll be okay. I promise.”

“Thanks lady, arrgh! It hurts…” the boy cried.

“Someone go and dial 911, hurry!” Juniper’s Daughter asked assertively. A girl aged about seventeen agreed to go with her friends to a nearby phone box down the road. The witch watched them go, sitting the boy up against the wall to support him. The pimp moaned and came to, another blow from the witch kept him from getting up, he remained motionless on the sidewalk. Almost a prisoner. Just then a shot rang out and a surprised expression appeared on Juniper’s Daughter’s face, a bloody red stain spread on her chest just above her left breast. She knew what had happened as she died – the pimps’ colleague had crept up behind from around the corner, she slowly fell forwards as sirens screamed in the distance, lights visible down the next street. Onto the crouching pimp she fell, a small bullet hole ruining her denim jacked. As her life left her she did one last act, her left hand closed over the Mex’s face and she wished he was dead, it was so! He was whisked away to heaven as his soul zoomed out of the atmosphere leaving his body and the macabre scene behind, he was only acting evil, it wasn’t in his heart. In a blinding white light Juniper’s Daughter was again with her Mother in another dimension…

Paganism dated back to the dawn of time and human civilisation, as soon as early humans had an awareness and basic intelligence they had to accept extreme vulnerability and brutal death in a land governed by survival of the fittest. They needed to believe in something greater than themselves, to give them a purpose other than fighting, eating, sleeping and surviving a hostile world. A natural environment surrounded them hugely influencing their lives, consciously if it was looking for food or subconsciously if it was in awe at something much greater than them. Volcanoes exploded, poison gas clung to the ground suffocating dozens of animals and early people and dark acts of random death. This was quickly recognised as evil and the power of darkness, a natural event that took on a hidden sinister meaning, watched from afar by an evil force that was equally part of the world as was the light and life. This dark evil became the Devil, ultimate evil setting up a natural balance against the witch and her mother Juniper, setting the scene for the longest battle in human history – light versus darkness. Who would win in the end? Would there ever be such an end? Small victories came all the time but it all evened itself out, no force triumphed supremely over the other, was it meant to be like this? What secrets weren’t told, what keys not given to unlock secret doors of total power? Was it really meant to be like this? Not a clear-cut war in black and white but a guerrilla war in grey? Was the witch tricked into fighting the Devil, who was equally tricked into their cause by some even greater power so far outside the battle of events that none even knew it existed?

Early people took certain animals and creatures to be evil or direct symbols of it, like the snake who represented Satan in all his slimy cunning ways, or the crocodile who represented an aspect of death striking so suddenly to snuff out a life like a candle flame. Other animals represented life, the stork that often nested in the areas where early people lived, near to food, water and shelter. New births were contributed to the storks returning from distant lands, when they migrated again and none or few births occurred this was seen as the Devil being close. Dogs gave positive influences, protecting early humans from attacks by bear and other predators, helping in the hunt against large game and being a faithful companion, no longer a wild beast. Again a certain balance this time in nature, distinct lines in good and bad creatures in the small yet aware minds of early people. Order made out of chaos, out of which great civilisations would rise and fall over the great epochs of our human history, law struggling to come to terms with chaos, another endless battle of light and dark. Many times it wasn’t so simple, especially in advanced civilisations where greedy leaders strove to be seen as saviours but in essence they were as evil as death, killing their rivals without a second glance. Several times when this happened Juniper’s Daughter stepped in, not with Hitler or Stalin but when even greater evil leaders threatened to come to power. The world never even knew their names, it would have been the final battle if allowed to happen, she had to let a certain amount of killing happen so man and the world learnt about its’ own actions and that death and destruction was just that and that evil was evil. The Devil’s reason to exist and thrive on the misguided actions of the evil few, these people went to Hell; many innocents killed went to Heaven.

Juniper’s Daughter was often a High Priestess in many early tribes of people; she was worshipped as a goddess figure by lots of people. Her Goddess role was total, she fought evil through spells, magic, sacred incantations in lost languages, she healed the sick with spells, herbal remedies, natural healing techniques and so much more. She became a leader and introduced basic laws resting on common sense and respect, helping stop conflict through negotiation but she had fought enough wars to know what to do if talking failed. Her magic was a powerful tool in all areas of life and rapid magical intervention often stopped conflict before it happened, she was a lady of many secrets following on the tradition of her Mother who was worshipped as a folk heroine all over the world. At times the poetry, myth, legend and stories became blurred as both Juniper and her daughter became one great worshipped being, a divine aspect of Mother Nature in all her glory, power, beauty and life cycles. An awesome force who controlled everything, even the humans who were mischievous offspring, always needing to be watched and guided and to a degree controlled and protected from themselves. Personal freedom was taken for granted by many humans but their evil leaders suppressed some, these she often quietly helped in little ways. It was Juniper’s Daughter who delicately manipulated the leaders and people so the Berlin Wall fell in 1989 thus avoiding a huge war that would have happened within a few years. She was able to change history by prior intervention but she had no time machine and couldn’t change the past.

Right through human history the witch was there in the background pulling the strings or at the front giving direct help and guidance. Each move was to counter a move by the devil often pre-empting him by acting before him, this could stop him or frustrate him making him act somewhere else in the oldest game of chess the world would ever see, period. Nothing but the destruction of the planet and her people would end this game, that would never happen, would it? Even Satan wouldn’t let that happen, he would be without a chessboard to play his game and wage his war then. Goddess culture was his main enemy and he wanted to whip her ass every time in celebration of his victory.

Many more secrets of Juniper’s Daughter were known to people, some weren’t secrets but common knowledge but people didn’t see things for what they were, the obvious was often more concealed than the great mysteries. It was better this way and events unfolded more smoothly without people trying to help the witch by knowing who she was and what her actions were for. This would greatly hinder her and let the Devil gain an upper hand that could tip the scales into darkness once and for all, that must not happen while the witch had her power and skills and her craft. Magic was the key, that hidden energy that ran parallel to the material world, feared by many, loved by a few, practised by even less. Understood by only three - Juniper, Juniper’s Daughter and the Devil. Many books have been written by teachers, witches, wizards, warlocks, charlatans, Satanists and others which promise to tell the truth of magic, how to use it, for good or bad, order or chaos. Only Juniper’s Daughter was able to fully use magic for her purpose, the purpose of good versus evil, soon such a ritual would take place, as had done before to stop evil in its tracks. Half had failed, half succeeded, what would this do? The future of the whole world and her population hung in the balance on this single magic ritual, if it failed the Devil gained an extra toe hold. A domino effect could see him plunge the world into darkness…

Chapter12 Ritual!

It was magic ritual time now. Juniper’s Daughter returned to John and Sarah. Time had gone by slowly as the couple enjoyed each other’s company in the cottage, months passed fading past events into their subconscious memory. A witch, a flying saucer, a war, the death of their friends seemed a surreal dream, life moved on in the way it was meant to for John and Sarah. Enjoying walks on the desolate moorland in the solitude of the seasons was something very special to them, as the weather got chilly they still ventured out but kept their clothes on when they made love amongst the rocks and heather. They had no protection, any rubbers taken from old stores would be years out of date and contraceptive pills would be a health risk for the same reasons. This made making love more sensual and special for the duo that was friends since school and now a loving couple who wanted nothing but each other’s company and time. Then it happened, one late October evening John saw a light in the sky-high overhead above the clouds making them glow. From the front of the house he watched the scene calling to Sarah who was doing research for her now book on their story and a basic history of what had happened to them. She broke the connection of the internet, saved her work onto old laser discs, disconnected the battery and left the computer to join John outside.

“Looks like we got company John,” Sarah whispered peering to the heavens.

“Yea, I bet I know who it is!” he replied placing his arm around Sarah for comfort at what could be ahead.

“We’ll soon find out…”

With a glow that lit up the entire eastern horizon it zoomed close to them stopping to hover just above them, three metres altitude, glowing pure gold brighter than the sun yet visible, not blinding. Slowly the glow dimmed and the outline of an object, disc shaped, filled their vision, turning black to be one with the night and scudding clouds. Their retinas still pulsated with the glare as a section of blackness died and a dim blue light illuminated someone emerging from the machine. Slowly falling to the earth a figure approached John and Sarah, only illuminated by the dim light from within the hallway of the house. The craft closed up becoming invisible. Coming into view in the half-light the witch had returned, she was as before – spectacularly beautiful in an earthy sort of way wearing loose fitting clothes of some odd style. She stopped in front of the couple and spoke: “I have returned as I promised I would. Good evening John and Sarah! You both look well.”

“Good to see you. You haven’t changed; except for the clothes… they’re… odd. And I see you have your UFO,” John greeted her.

“Yes, here I am!” Juniper’s Daughter answered, smiling.

“Hi,” was all Sarah said, rather shyly, unlike her.

“Come in then, you’ll get cold,” John said.

Together they entered the house and shut the door locking it, turning off the inner light, heading into the front room, closing the curtains and lighting some old candles and a single wind up torch to save the old car batteries. This set the scene for an intimate conversation of catch up. John sat next to Sarah and the witch sat on a single sofa opposite them, she waited for them to start the talking for she was a guest in their presence. She smiled, Sarah opened up, “How are you? Where have you been?”

“My dear Sarah I have been doing my work in one place and the next, being very busy helping people in their guidance, aims and lives. Stopping the Devil taking their souls. A very worthwhile job if I may say so!” Juniper’s Daughter answered.

“Oh, I see,” Sarah commented raising her eyebrows in astonishment. She had forgotten what the witch did as a “job”.

“So you’ve made the world a better place?” John said looking directly at the witch. One time he would have only glanced at her, not now.

“Yes, I’ve been over to what was France and surrounding countries, after doing a bit in England, Wales and Scotland,” she dryly added.

“How do you do that?” Sarah asked.

“With my flying saucer, my skills, my magic and other ways.”

“What do you want with us again?” John asked suspiciously.

“Why, we need to do one more thing to put things back on track and stop Satan getting his piece of your country and your souls. We need to do a magic ritual. You remember I mentioned it to you a while ago?”

“Yes I remember our talk. So we help you?” Sarah enquired wondering why this was all necessary.

“Yes, I need your help. Are you in?” Juniper’s Daughter quietly replied.

“We are in,” John spoke for both of them.

“Good, good. I will explain what we will need to do…”

Over the next two hours Juniper’s Daughter covered every act, action, cause and effect of each and outcome of the spell and ritual, that’s if it all worked and the Devil played his tricks. This was possible knowing his cunningness. The witch explained how she had done a similar spell and ritual in France, how the Devil appeared killing a thousand spectators with fire from the heavens. Yet the witch won, her protective magic circle stopped his fireballs saving herself and her helpers participating in the ritual, it was a close thing but it worked. For now evil there was thwarted. She showed John and Sarah the magical tools they would use in conjunction with the witch, they were very interested but a little scared, doing battle with the Devil? Captain Cocksucker had been in league with the Devil but he wasn’t the Devil that was a subtle difference. Before this Juniper’s Daughter asked the duo if she could cook a meal before battle commenced, the final supper before the end of the world?

In the small kitchen Juniper’s Daughter commented how clean and neat everything was, John positioned three old candles, one wind up torch and a small lamp ran from a small motorcycle battery to provide light. Sarah helped Juniper’s Daughter by finding the right cooking utensils and assisting as and when needed, John watched being a guy he let girl power take over. Not that he minded a secondary role this time. Out of her large canvas bag the witch produced half a dozen different types of herbs and plants, she showed Sarah how to prepare them taking leaves and skin off. Placing them into a pan full of water from the nearby stream (the taps ran but the water wasn’t clear), boiled on a wood burning stove that John had cleverly made from bits of metal in the shed. Smoke exited up an equally homemade chimney from sheet metal out of the top half of the kitchen window. Soon the water was simmering, a strong smell of cooking herbs filled the room, sweet yet pungent. Homemade bread from Juniper’s Daughter’s own supply added to the meal. To drink, stream water pure and cold was enough. John set three places at the small table as Sarah brought in the meal, followed by Juniper’s Daughter who let the homeowners sit first. She then sat and raised a toast of water, “To us! To success and fulfilment of our ritual tonight. Let us be successful. So mote it be!” they repeated this once more and ate their meal slowly and carefully, as if this was the last time they would grace this barren desolate world.

Later in the vast field behind the house the trio gathered for the ritual, walking through knee high grass to a site high above the dwelling overlooking the valley. It was night now; a million stars placed the sky in raptures – a touching pretty image to surely touch the coldest hearts. Five hundred or so yards away Juniper’s Daughter indicated a spot, the same as any other in the darkness. She illuminated the way with her magic wand, the fist size crystal giving out a green light onto the ground, making it visible in the green hue, not a blinding light but comforting. Stopping after a quarter of an hour walk the witch placed a three-metre Hessian/hemp mat on the ground after smoothing out the grass. Looking at the mat John noticed many swirling pictures on it that made him dizzy as he struggled to make the dancing creatures out, snakes, a bird of some kind (an owl?), a dog (wolf?), a fish and stick like images that surely must be people of different sizes, adults and kids (surely not aliens?). Many colours cascaded over the mat, some fading others very vivid, all of a natural hue even in the green-lit darkness, what did this mean? An explanation was soon forthcoming: “This matt is four hundred years old John, I made it in Spain when I was amongst the Celts there in the mountains as they fought to keep their old pagan way of life. I helped them preserve what was theirs but was in danger of dying out, forever. I was successful; this mat is a memento of that time. I use it in my rituals and will do until my job is done here, on your precious world.”

“Okay…” John replied.

“What are the small people… they look like… aliens…” Sarah commented in a whisper looking down.

“Yes they are. Or at least they were, they’re a small race of mountain people who intermingles with the “humans” when they need to. Even today no one knows of their existence, so remote are their mountain homes. In time I will meet both peoples again, my bloodline runs deep with them,” Juniper’s Daughter explained, matter of factly.

“Fuck me! You’ve done some shit! I thought we had but this is mad, you’re one hell of a chick!” John laughed Sarah glared at him.

“Well John I have my own job to do in saving the world, quite like you and Sarah saving England from the attackers a few years ago. We all do our bit.”

“War is war. Many times we nearly died for our cause and our country, even now!” Sarah passionately confessed, “We always will be freedom fighters who will never forget our cause or our fallen warriors… I miss Lee, Red and Gun Barrel so much…”

“My dear Sarah your friends are in a better place, I assure you of that. They’re in a happy place; I’m unable to contact them directly as the psychic link is not strong enough yet but I know they’re alright. Please believe me. I admire your spirit and passion.”

“So do I my Sarah…” John said kissing his love gently on the lips, not at all embarrassed.

“Okay then, let us prepare for the ritual. We have work to do now,” Juniper’s Daughter explained. From her large canvas bag the witch withdrew three simple robe/cloak type garments for them to all wear made of a thin but warm material that John couldn’t identify. She passed the clothes around and asked the small group to put them on, Sarah slipped it on over her faded blue jeans, jumper and jacket, John did the same and lastly the witch did too. She spoke: “These robes are blessed by myself, they belong to the natural world and I am responsible for them being a Goddess of Mother Nature, my Mother. We will be closer to the natural world with these on; they’re made out of natural fibres from a certain rare Norwegian tree. Also the mat upon which we stand is natural fibres, being on the ground it gives us a physical connection to the natural world.”

“Okay. And that matters in the spell that we will do?” Sarah enquired.

“Yes it does matter greatly, we will have a much stronger connection to the natural world and have a greater chance of being successful in our magical work,” Juniper’s Daughter answered.

“Is this safe? What are the chances of the Devil interfering?” John whispered, his eyes like steel.

“Yes it’s safe, there’s always a chance the Devil will try to stop us but I have plans for him if he does. I wouldn’t worry John,” the witch said.

From out of her large holdall the witch took out her magic tools. She asked Sarah to stand at her left and John to stand opposite so a triangle of power was formed, equally balanced out. Onto the mat lay magical items – crystals of various sizes and power and uses, a magical wand that glowed orange now providing a working light, small pouches of herbs from the countryside, an ancient spell book with a small lock on the cover and other strange things that neither John or Sarah had ever seen before. This was certainly eerie! Juniper’s Daughter laid her tools out in a certain order; she stood up closing her eyes and whispered a unheard invocation/prayer under her breathe. Her facial expression was absolutely serious and determined, a side they hadn’t seen before. Opening her eyes the witch told the helpers what to do, Sarah stood to Juniper’s Daughter’s left and John the other side, she picked up a pink crystal of Rose Quartz and gave it to Sarah to hold.

“Sarah you represent the divine aspect of unconditional pure love and the power of the maiden and mother.”

Turning to John she passed him a black obsidian dagger that shone strangely in the night-light. “John you represent the divine aspect of the warrior and the power of the father.”

In her own hands the witch held her magic wand in her left and a magical athame, a dagger of pure silver to weave her magic and to symbolise goodness and positivity to banish evil. She spoke: “Mighty Goddesses of Mother Nature, hear me and positively influence our magical spell work and ritual. I invoke the mighty Earth Goddess of this mountain and valley to come to me and show yourselves to us, be our magical guide and protect and watch over us. I invoke you appear before us now!”

Nothing happened at first. Suddenly the whole valley lit up in a photo flashlight, not a flash but steady illumination that cast fixed shadows at every point of the compass. This was really odd! Something was here, with them. Juniper’s Daughter walked along the left hand path in a slow circle with her wand held high in her left hand. Sarah and John slowly followed her. The witch spoke; Sarah and John repeated her words in a whisper.

“I cast a magic circle to surround and protect us from all evil harmful positive and negative influences. To protect us and shield us from evil, from the Devil’s evil power and from malignant spirits of the night. Let nothing pass through this magical circle I cast upon us and around and over us, we will be protected. Our spell working will be only for positive ends and for the benefit of the natural world and of humankind, not for our own gains. I cast this circle, so mote it be!”

Standing with her arms outstretched Juniper’s Daughter was rooted to the ground, she was a conduit to the land of Mother Nature, to the sky her Mother and to the Divine Goddess of the Land. John stood to her right, Sarah to her left – all held their arms up to the heavens, faces turned upwards. The witch screamed in an animal voice as the landscape was lit up brighter by unseen light, it slowly pulsated and throbbed like a live thing. John and Sarah chanted the names of their fallen warrior friends, “Lee, Gun Barrel, Red,” over and over again to bring their dead comrades’ energy and fighting spirit to the ritual. This wasn’t planned they just burst into it as the witch screamed her animal sound, the name of the Goddess that surrounded them in ethereal light. Different colour lights pulsed and danced in the sky, the entire visible light spectrum was there, a nighttime rainbow in this odd clash of physics.

“Oh Mighty Goddess of the Land do our work, be at our command and banish evil from this landscape and world! Let me bring light and hope and love to the world, let tyranny, evil, war and the Devil be banished from this world once and for all. Bring us victory in the name of Juniper, my Mother who once did the job I do now, let John and Sarah’s fallen friends have not died in vain. We banish evil from the land, we banish evil from the land, we banish evil from the land. So mote it be!” Juniper’s Daughter invoked.

She held out her magic crystal, it glowed bright red sending colour shooting up to the illuminated cloud base two thousand feet above them, replacing red with pink – the colour of unconditional love. Pulses of light danced and weaved a merry web around the gathered party, doing who knew what. Healing the world? The Goddess suddenly became visible, a huge towering figure of a woman three hundred feet tall dressed in white satin of pre-history design. Absolutely fucking beautiful, leaving the witch and Sarah in the dark, this was something else, unreal, a true beauty that belonged to unconditional love and of self-sacrifice to a higher cause. She turned to face the group hundreds of feet below them and spoke in the voice of God, of the Goddess, for she was the feminine female part, most powerful deity in existence. Her voice was everywhere and nowhere, real and an illusion. “Welcome to my kingdom, my home is your home. My time here is but brief. Juniper’s Daughter I give you my warmest regards and wish you and your friends well, also to your Mother. You all have my blessing against evil and the dark forces of the alter ego, the Devil, who strives to win total control. Your ritual has to be done in the purest of faith and in deliberate hope, if any of you have doubts then darkness will rule the land and ultimate terror will reign. You cant fail!” the beautiful Goddess smiled on her moon white face, pure love emanated out and nothing could, would, match that force. Not even evil. Then she was gone and the whole landscape was thrust into blackness, not that of evil but of slowly fading love. If the Devil were to strike it would be now…

“Right! Repeat after me… ‘We have hope in our hearts and love in our actions. Innocence is ours and we rid this land and our world of evil! So mote it be!’ say it three times after me,” the witch commanded. Both did as told repeating the words as a strong wind blew forth gathering in intensity as the seconds slowly unwound. The Devil was here!

A ball of pure blackness appeared from in the clouds above their heads, distant and evil sending wisps of vapour and fog swirling out of what looked like a black hole, a rumbling filled the air and the ground shook as an earth tremor shook the very earth. The three people swayed but remained upright. Out of the black portal sped the Devil in a swirling mass of vapours; a smell of sulphur wafted down and small fires surrounded the figure in the sky that flew seemingly defying gravity. Evil red eyes glowed in the head of the hard to make out being, almost as if the features of this monster were forever changing. Was it swallowing souls of the wretched even as he hovered above the group? In a wicked grin he screamed, a huge roar of wind and falling ash and fire falling forth. John and Sarah screamed and held their hands over their ears; Juniper’s Daughter screamed back, the shriek of a girl compared to a hurricane. This was really bad shit, they were way out of their depth and how the fuck would they win this? The witch spoke: “Evil of Hell leave this world. Venture back to your world of death and suffering, you have no place here, we have peace in our hearts and hope in our souls, fly back to Hell and be gone Old Nick!” Sarah and John repeated the verse.

Falling ash drifted down like something from a volcano, fire set the blowing grass ablaze and smoke drifted towards them making their eyes water and chests heave as they coughed to breath. Lighting careered through the sky hitting the ground around them kicking up geysers of earth, thunder boomed across the heavens like a mad dog gone insane. Around Juniper’s Daughter, Sarah and John the magic circle glowed white, a three metre pure white sphere of magical energy surrounding them and protecting them. Now they knew that nothing would harm them, the Devil had failed to kill them, to stop the ritual and bring forces of darkness into this world, light remained and conquered evil. Peace returned to the earth, unconditional love solely filtered through and somewhere, something happened. Over the horizon a distant light appeared, a new dawn was coming, this new day heralded something different, as up above an evil figure slowly faded and receded into the clouds, blackness fading. No more ash fell; rain began to fall slowly then more heavily until a torrent poured onto the land drowning out the fire turning fire into smoke, stopping this small bit of evil that Satan brought here. Up above the clouds seemed to thin, the rain stopped and stars became visible, a huge moon appeared full and bursting with light from the westward bit of the sky. Opposite the sun rose and in unison the trio screamed in delight, they had done it!

Much later Sarah felt sick; she thought she had eaten something that disagreed with her. After a week or so and three days in bed John guessed what it was – Sarah was pregnant! He was a father and she a mother. Juniper’s Daughter came and examined the tender girl, she confirmed it and gave the rough date the birth would occur and then Juniper’s Daughter would deliver the baby herself with John’s help. She explained she had to go, she had more work to do, that their recent victory was but one in a long line of battles against the forces of evil and the Devil. She was never out of a job. Before she went, the small event of a pagan wedding took place, where Juniper’s Daughter hand fasted John with Sarah and as High Priestess, pronounced them Man and Wife (with little one). Now they really could start living in peace… but for how long?

Chapter13 Endgame

Many years later in a different world: “Hey did you hear about the girl in that plane that buzzed the settlement? She’s local, right, I mean from around here?” the crippled man said, anticipating many answers.

“Well… Maybe she was once a ‘resident’ here long ago, though I can’t be sure. My memory’s not what it used to be,” the old man whispered, almost afraid to be overheard.

“Oh, c’mon now, I’ve heard the rumours,” the other remarked, holding the old man’s gaze.

“Rumours be damned, why do you listen to hearsay?”

“It’s just, well… Hell, I’ve heard weird things. Look, I heard that she found a plane, ‘that plane’, in the ice pack, frozen solid for a thousand years the last of its kind. Is that true? Who would make such things up? What could they hope to achieve?”

A strained silence fell over the room, punctuated by the sounds of distant battle.

“Okay,” the old man simply said.

“Okay what?” from the cripple, his eyes now alert. Could this be true? Was he right?

“You’re the only one to have come close. I don’t think you can read my mind but it’s crazy. You guessed right, the girl is my daughter, my own flesh and blood, my only child. She’s 25 years old and fighting for the Twenty Sixth crowd. She found the plane, yes; it’s old, much older than even me. I don’t know how she found it or got it working but it is her.” A look of uncertainty passed over the elder’s face. Had he done the right thing letting his friend in? Could the lame man be an assassin for the Stone Collectors? Fate would tell and destiny would soon be calling, for better or for worse.

“Fuckin’ Lord! You aint crappin’ me? True? Your daughter? I mean, rumours are rumours but this is madness!” the cripple shouted, his mind awash with waves of images. He had been right all along.

“If you don’t believe me then I wont and cant change your mind. I have work to do. Leave me now. I have told you enough, go now,” the aged man uttered, fatigue showing in his watery eyes. He reached down for a cloth-covered bundle.

“I need to know more, tell me! You know more! Please tell me.”

If the cripple could have stood he would have done so.

“She is my daughter, her name is Seranaya. Now go.”

The bundle was unwrapped now, the cloth falling to the floor. A small plasma pistol filled his hands. The small size belied its potency. In a sudden move the old man placed the weapon in his mouth and pulled the trigger. The cripple screamed: “No! No!” But it was too late; a beam of plasma blasted the other’s head apart in a shower of cauterised blood, flesh, brains and bone.

A burning smell filled the room and shock filled the cripple’s mind. Serenaya? Was that her name? Now she was the last, she was a bastard, her father now dead. He had to leave before the authorities found him and he had to find her. As quickly as he could, he turned his wheelchair and left the macabre scene.

On a small island a dozen or so miles off the north coast of Scotland the seeds of battle were seductively sown in the minds of three young fanatical warriors, true believers in their cause. Whether it was for good or bad didn’t cross their hardened minds; this was a cause that would see them as the new leaders of the nearby landmass that was once the United Kingdom. Now it was a free for all with the toughest or wealthiest being top dog. All that was about to change, ruthlessness would be the next factor in shaping the future of this troubled land once again. For a thousand years after the civil war that led to Wales and Scotland gaining independence from England, after the nuclear war with France, after bitter fighting with the English army, followed by a period of peace after alien/supernatural events, then another war with Europe, again nuclear mixed with biological weapons and countless years of internal squabbling, a new fight would soon erupt. This time sheer determination and skill in battle would make it succeed, for if it didn’t failure would be worse than death. Failure would bring the pain of slow torture at the hands of the Twenty Sixth. They had to succeed; the missiles had to fire and find their targets – there was no second chance.

Walking through the slight drizzle to the first launcher, Jian checked the closed tube, noticing how the rain ran down the lightly greased barrel away from the rubber seal. Good, no leaks. Opening a panel at the wheel base-plate, Jian brought up the system diagnostics online on a small computer terminal. Letters, digits and graphs showed that everything was okay, that no failures showed up. Just to be sure, he ran the check twice more and was finally satisfied that his Iranian supplied weapons were ready for launch. There were twelve sets of mobile launchers, each with three small rockets hidden snugly inside the tubes – a total of thirty-six mixed warhead devices. Neutron bombs for people killing, hydrogen bombs for large military targets and cities and atom bombs for precision drops on smaller targets.

Jian shut the terminal down and repeated his visual checks on each of the remaining thirty-five tubes. Each was fine. He randomly opened another terminal on launcher number seven and cycled the system. Again it checked out. Walking over to his two colleagues, Boss and Jano, Jian talked in a hushed voice. “The weapons systems check out. All we have to do is wait. Then we will launch and be the new conquerors of our troubled land. My God be with us…”

Two hours later as the moon reached her peak, launch time came upon the group. A fact, nothing more, a game of numbers in the man made world of time, a countdown to a new battle to follow the ones of the past. The internal clock silently reached zero and the three men watched from a dug out position, nothing more than a metre and a half ditch with earth piled on the top. If one of the warheads went off the hole would provide no protection whatsoever even with a neutron bomb. They killed with intense radiation but a nuclear explosion had to take place to unleash the deadly gamma rays. Jian watched the main control screen that showed each launcher and individual weapon – thirty-six yellow blobs with green icons next to them. Jain watched the group of launchers with fibre optic laser viewing optics. Boss watched the other group with a similar device.

“Everything’s fine here, Jian.”

“You tally up on your lot Boss?” Jian whispered.

“Okay on this side, not even a bug moving,” Boss replied. “How are the readouts, Jian, any anomalies or problems?”

“Everything is sorted here, thirty seconds to go,” Jian replied. “I’d turn your optics down to the lowest setting if I were you. You don’t want flash blinding.”

The pair’s extra sensitive night vision equipment would adjust automatically to any bright flash or light, so any change would be automatic, a factor that Jian didn’t trust. He was not keen on machines, whence his constant checking of the systems and his refusal to use the night glasses. The countdown reached zero. At first nothing happened, at least not visually but in the microcircuits, commands were sent to ignite the launch motors and arm the warheads. In a glare of crude yellow light, first one and then another rocket speared forth into the night, the pop of the seals being broken lost in the rockets’ roar. Jian had to close his eyes at the brightness. It was an impressive sight he had to admit. What would the sight resemble on the receiving end when thirty-six missiles detonated on thirty-six separate pre-programmed targets? He wished he could see each one as it happened. Sadly that was impossible because his side, the Stone Collectors, had lost all of their spy satellites to the Twenty Sixth beam weapons. It was a bonus getting these nuclear missiles so cheap from the Iranian Superpower Block at such a cheap price. Even such outdated technology was still much prized by either side today and anyone with enough credit could get hold of them.

In fingers of yellow lightning and in voices of thunder the rockets headed steeply heavenwards, rapidly moving out of sight. In seconds all thirty-six had been launched and had gone.

Jian rubbed his eyes and shut them. He could still see the fiery trails on his closed lids. Maybe he should have worn a set of fibre optic viewing optics. He turned to Jano and Boss and smiled. “Now we have started our little quest for power, our Gods of War will guide us. Through the death of our enemies, a great nation will become ours again!”

“I wouldn’t want to be want to be under that fucking lot when they go off!” Boss said. He rubbed his hands together in satisfaction.

“Some party, eh? Lets set the destruction charge and get out of here to the base,” Jano commented.

“Yes, lets do it. We can’t leave any trace of our being here. You two, you know what to do. I’ll double check when you’re done – give me a shout. I’m going for a walk to clear my head.” With that Jian set off down the gently sloping beach, almost invisible in the coming dawn and endless drizzle. Still, he was happy inside, for the first time in ages. Yes, they could win and have a place to live in peace again. It was worth fighting for. Even if they failed, the battle would be worth it. No one could deny they hadn’t tried in the long run.

Boss and Jano went over to the mobile assault vehicle and unlocked the cab door. Here, Juno entered the small driver’s position and brought out a small package the size of a briefcase. Boss looked on with cautious eyes. He knew the dangerous nature of the thing, which his friend held. It was a high power nuclear bomb, in the one-megaton range – equal to a million tons of normal high explosive: some kick ass bomb! Locking the door again and walking over to the centre of the launch area, Jano set the bomb down and started to prepare it for detonation. Boss scanned around the area watching for movement at this crucial time, his small machine pistol ready. No one would venture to this distant island, at least not until they had worked out the launch position but by then it would be too late. It would be turned to glass, totally obliterated.

Opening up the pressurised case and activating the keypad took a minute, entering the code took two more and finally sealing and locking it took one more. Then it was ready, to do the evil task for which it had been designed, as had other similar devices on the speeding missiles. The destruction would soon start, though at this spot no one would die only cover their tracks.

“Okay, Boss, the bomb is armed and ready to blow. The timer is set for two hours and thirty minutes. Then we have to be a minimum of ten miles away to live. The blast will be considerable.” Jano gloated, a crazy grin spreading from ear to ear.

“Are you sure that you have done it right? We don’t want no early detonation or a dud. I trust you on this, you know,” Boss warily replied, the uneasiness of any mistake playing on him like the plague on a doctor.

“Sure thing buddy, no problem, I checked it and it’s fine. Trust me!” the mad fighter forcibly laughed.

“We better find Jian and tell him all is set and that he can check the bomb. Then we leave this exposed place. Come on then, I want to go.”

“Okay, okay. Hang on; I want a last look at this place. We started a new dawn, here, you know. We were lucky finding this island. It has served us well. Okay, I’m ready.” Jano turned his back on the empty launchers and slowly ticking bomb.

Hurrying down to the beach both found their leader quietly sitting on a rock, lost in his own world. In the light of a new day he silently looked at Boss and Jano. Abruptly he nodded and smiled, warmly, happily. Jano returned the nod, confirmation of completing the task.

Making their way to the escape craft, their job was done. Faithfully waiting at the small wooden jetty by the shore was a small three-seater hovercraft, looking squat and powerful. With a small jet engine and top speed of eighty knots, this was their silver bullet, a ticket to freedom in the remaining two hours and ten minutes. Jano climbed in, followed by Boss. Jian slowly walked back up to the bomb to double check his companion’s work. He knew that he had no need to, that Jano was as committed to the cause as he was but it was an important job. Five minutes later Jian returned, all was well. He cast off the stout line from the jetty and climbed aboard the small craft. Jano shut the door and Boss gunned the engine to accelerate them from the mooring point. Turning the craft around to face seawards, Boss floored the throttle to bring the jet engine up to full thrust, an ass kicking five hundred pounds sending them on their way. Soon out to sea and heading around the nameless island, the small craft was lost from sight in the dim light. No one could catch them now. Soon their second task could begin, rallying their army for victory.

An ice-cold crush of timeless pressure of immensely unbelievable weight held the big iron bird in place in her freezing grave. She had been there for over a thousand years. No one knew how long because time was only an approximate after so many years. Mankind had simply forgotten what year it was. All of the machines that could have forecast the year had been destroyed and replaced by newer ones. Anyhow, the year never really mattered – survival was more important. That’s why a young girl called Seranaya stood, she hoped, above the entombed plane, six hundred feet above it on the icepack. A bitterly cold wind blew from nowhere, so cold that it cut right through her, to shake her to her core. Even with a full piece carbon suit to protect her from the minus eighty below temperatures (minus 100 if you take into effect the wind chill factor), Seranaya was cold. But she reminded herself that she had a job to do, to make sure that the buried plane really was here and not the legend that people talked about. She checked her hand held computer to confirm her location – a list of digits came up on the display and she smiled. She was at the spot. All she had to do was do a scan with the painting radar to perform a number of things. A depth check, the plane’s position, any ice gradients which could make extraction dangerous and to see if anything else was down there. That she doubted but it was possible. Turning the computer slightly downwards, she pressed another button to activate it, not easily through her carbon gloves.

Seconds ticked by as the small dish scanned deep into the ice, down to where the old plane lay under millions of tons of frozen water. On the weatherproof screen on the computer the word “SCANNING” appeared and stayed for what seemed an age. Then “STANDBY” replaced it as images from down below processed into the memory finally to be displayed on the screen. Serenaya couldn’t believe it. She stared at the data; it indicated a solid contact at six hundred and twelve feet below where she now stood, a change in ice density at a hundred and thirty two feet for sixty-nine feet, that the plane was in one piece and reasonably level. It must be in the same position as when it forced landed all those years ago. How amazing, she thought.

Still staring at the screen, Seranaya clicked the small blinking cursor onto additional information: total mass in tons of ice that needed to be removed to reach the plane, plus or minus five percent, one hundred and nine thousand tons; amount of crush damage to the plane, plus or minus ten percent, up to fifty eight point six. Shit, a fucking rebuild… But she knew that from the start, so long under the ice, so much weight pressing down, to crush, to smother, to destroy would leave her quest nothing more than a rare piece of scrap metal. Blinking a cold tear from her eyes, Seranaya finely tuned the painting radar to focus on the plane and do a detailed scan of it. This task would take half an hour, so she gently placed the computer on a small portable stand and returned to her nearby snow camp to have a hot meal and to wait.

The Stone Collectors came by their name by accident, a long time ago, when the current war was no more than isolated skirmishes between the rival factions of people. Up to five heavily armed groups of varying strengths had fought to control their local areas and then the whole former UK landmass. Total control was near enough impossible due to lack of numbers in some groups, lack of heavy weapons and bad communications routes. So in over two hundred years of tit for tat fighting that brought misery, death and the extinction of the three smaller groups, the Stone Collectors came up out on top. Due to skill, knowledge of the terrain, of the enemies’ weakness and to sheer perseverance, they nearly won. But a breathtaking number of counterattacks by the opposing Twenty Sixth had stopped the Stone Collectors in their tracks. Resorting to proven tactics of guerrilla hit and run raids brought the Collectors some reprieve but they needed more heavy weapons and more forces to retake lost ground and finally finish the Twenty Sixth off. But fate had a funny way of working in wartime, so the war could go either way.

Long ago a small boy was looking for food on a new spring day, a few kilometres from his elders’ camp. Enjoying the warm weather, the young lad found more than food; he came across the newly fossilised remains of a group of humans from a long time ago. Staring in awe and fear at the sight set into the stony riverbank before him, the nine year boy started to cry. For he knew that something terrible had happened to the contorted bones poking out of the virgin rock not six feet in front of him. Skeletons with arched backs, broken limbs and smashed in skulls could only mean suffering and pain, a voice in his head told him. Stepping closer to the sloping rock, he picked up a hard piece of granite and started to slowly scrape and gouge away the softer stone. He wanted to take some old bones to show his friends and maybe trade with them. Minutes into his task a toothless jawbone rested on the ground at his feet. So caught up in his task, he never noticed three more shadows join his own. It was a fear in his that made him turn and drop the hard stone in surprise. Standing dangerously close were three heavily armed men of the Twenty Sixth, with wicked grins on their faces. Attempting to run was no use, for the strongest member of the group pinned the boy to the ground with his dirty boot. “Talk, you little swine, where is your camp? What’s the fighting strength there? What weapons?” the dirty soldier demanded. When no answer was forthcoming, he lowered his laser pistol and blew his little head off. His companions laughed until they cried, what a little shit, not even putting up a fight! Two days later, a search party from the boy’s camp found his corpse. They saw what he had been doing and how he had been murdered and named their ragged band after him, the Stone Collectors. Now after many years and hundreds of fights later, the Stone Collectors became ones to be reckoned with but they needed more heavy weapons, more fighters and a lot of luck. Any more lost battles could mean the end of their gamble to win control of the landmass that they sorely wanted. It was hard enough holding onto the ground they already occupied, being under constant attack.

As for the Twenty Sixth, their story was more conventional in the way that they formed. Originally from the ruined streets of Glasgow and surrounding area, the group was known for its fierce fighting in a hundred skirmishes and lack of mercy for prisoners if they wouldn’t change sides. Over the years the “membership” grew and included local mercenaries, ex-prisoners and just about anyone who had some skill or other to offer. From accountants to drivers to weapon techs all had a role to play in this sprawling group that changed its name from the Hustlers to the Twenty Sixth when recruitment brought pilot numbers up to number 26, enough for their aims two squadrons of the best skilled and most able people to take the war to the Stone Collectors from the air. All they needed was a suitable plane and that was where Seranaya came in and her crazy plan to find the entombed plane and rebuild it, then make many more. Already in possession of two hundred mile an hour electric powered trainer/light strike aircraft; the group needed more powerful craft. Acquiring aircraft from the Iranian Superpower Block was impossible due to political infighting and paranoia to any foreigners. The Iranians possessed such advanced hypersonic fighter planes to true space vehicles. All of these would make any group or country top dog on the block; that’s why the Twenty Sixth only managed to come by thirty Type 10 Bright Star electric planes. These were highly agile but too slow, limited in warload and needed for training new pilots. Other sources of aircraft turned out to be full of shit or unreliable, so the frozen plane was a must. If it could be repaired or reverse engineered then the Stone Collectors could be defeated. Iranian supplied nuclear missiles would also be part of the plan.

From the shore a bright flash lit up the barely visible island on horizon, turning the grey day into a sunburst of blinding light. The bomb set by Jian, Boss and Jano had detonated on time. It obliterated everything. A huge mushroom cloud rose up, rolling and boiling in reds and purples as it cooled and grew in size to reach the stratosphere. Seconds later the blast wave reached the shore at the speed of sound, a bulging sphere of violence. A group of people, nomadic wanderers using gravity drive vehicles, witnessed the blast from twelve and a half miles away, half suffered temporary flash blindness due to watching the flash; at night blindness would be permanent and irreversible. Six medium sized bus like vehicles were turned over and badly damaged, smashing their drive systems and body work. The remainder suffered light damage. Out of a hundred people most had their breath taken away as they got simply blown away, thirty-six died and twenty-four seriously injured. The rest got off lightly. By this time the three war starters had reached safety on one of the thousand year old rusting oilrigs in the North Sea. No on had spotted them. Over two hours previously the thirty-six nuclear rockets had hit and destroyed their targets. A total of nine hit Twenty Sixth weapon sites, vehicle bases, ammo dumps and command centres above ground in un-hardened buildings. Each carried a thirty-kiloton atom bomb set for low altitude airburst for blast damage. Neutron bombs, the people killers, hit troop and fighting men/women concentrations with small five kiloton blasts that produced incapacitating gamma rays to kill and disable anyone nearby. Buildings a mile and a half away would only be lightly damaged but people up to ten miles away would suffer, taking up to three days to die. The remaining missiles were hydrogen bombs, really, really big ones with plenty of Boom in them. Twenty-one hit targets up and down the country belonging to the Twenty Sixth away from the Stone Collectors positions and facilities, due to the large blast radius. Targets included sprawling weapons factories, undamaged old cities and towns, new type barricade style towns (like huge walled city/forts, very heavily armed), underground command facilities and one port city used to import various arms. Destruction and loss of life would be a hundred percent, though a lot of Stone Collectors would escape by being in other areas of the country. It was a heavy and devastating attack that achieved total surprise.

Serenaya returned to the camp, her camp, on the barren icefields of the north Artic. Before she entered the pressurised lightweight plastic shelter, she stopped and looked around at her remote location. For mile after mile around her the ice fields stretched seemingly to infinity over the snowy plain, to give the impression that nothing else existed in the world, just this. Above the sky was a thin powdery blue dusted with a hint of white high altitude Cirrus clouds, many miles out of reach but almost close enough to touch. This in particular took the young girl’s breath away; if she were an angel then she wanted to live up there with those wispy clouds and delicate blue sky. Even the unbroken line of the horizon which stretched evenly around her was an eye opener in a cold icy sort of way; hardly a bump or ridge spoiled the circular horizon line as Serenaya slowly scanned it with her wide brown eyes. Her faceplate fogged slightly, so she turned up the suit’s demister to maximum. The visor cleared, giving her back her stunning view of the whole area. Standing for another few minutes admiring it, Serenaya wondered, had it always been like this? Maybe it had, timeless to Mankind’s passing in Mother Nature’s world of stunning beauty.

Turning to the medium size door, she punched in her four-digit code to unlock the mechanism. A really determined person could defeat the small lock with a large hunting knife, maybe even to cut through the tough plastic walls but no soul was about it gave Serenaya a feeling of security, even if it was a slightly misconceived feeling. For the duration this was her home, her shelter from the elements and from the huge vastness of the outside. In here she could see the walls; they were her horizon, close enough to reassuringly touch and bring her down to earth from the massive remoteness.

With a slight hiss the door opened and she slowly stepped inside the white walled structure. It contained a single plastic bunk with double layer space blanket with small heating elements, a light weight desk and chair, computer equipment of assorted types, a cooking area with laser stove, two crates of provisions and a chemical toilet in a small cubicle with an equally small shower. This was not Serenaya’s favourite item but it was at best functional and at least it didn’t smell due to the efficient chemicals within. Taking off her gloves and one-piece helmet, she sat down and breathed deeply, relaxing for a moment. When done, she clicked the computer on and monitored the smaller unit that she left scanning outside. Everything was in order. Rows of text filled the screen in dizzying scrolls that her eyes struggled to follow. Carefully to not upset the system, she touched the menu section at the top of the screen to view directly what the radar was seeing. Several seconds later a small window appeared in the middle of the display, showing a faint hazy image like a roughly drawn cross. This took her back to when she was a child and clumsily painting a cross on thick paper, the watery paint soaked into the paper spoiling her simple image. This is what the buried plane now resembled, with the smudged bits being the streamlined/wing fuselage structure retaining their outline after so many years. She rotated the image by again touching the sensitive screen, viewing the plane from around the compass, then zoomed in to examine each part as closely as possible. Firstly, the huge single piece vertical tail. It was bent lazily over to the right off centre by shifting ice over the years but still attached to the body. The horizontal tailplane was bent accordingly, the port unit separated from the vertical one, to be frozen in space half a metre away, the starboard unit was fine in comparison, still attached. Moving up the fuselage she swore under her breath – the hollow structure had been partly crushed by the solid ice around it. Radar waves painted a photo like image that showed massive crush damage down the delicate structure, all along from the tailplane to the cockpit. Cockpit transparencies were missing or broken and a huge amount of ice invaded the once pressurised area, crushing and shattering over hundreds of years.

Moving the picture to display the port wing and one of the double power units showed more of the same, a bent wing, no longer upwards but slightly downwards. The huge airscrew had come adrift from the motor, to hang in the ice before it, blades bent back from a much earlier crash landing. Serenaya could only guess at what internal damage internal damage was like, to the fuel tanks, engines and wing spars. Quickly scrolling to the starboard wing showed less damage but nothing was left untouched, this wing had combat damage on the outer quarter, jagged metal bent upwards from several holes. Smiling to herself, Seranaya granted herself credit for managing to come this far, next the plane had to be raised from its icy tomb, transported to the secret research base and taken apart. New parts had to be made, measurements taken, tests done and improvements made using recent technology. Only then could any new planes start to be fabricated, a long and slow job. Moving back to the main menu, Seranaya took in additional information and after several minutes stopped to prepare her meal, a man made substitute for rabbit stew with a carton of hi energy drink.

On the ice the plane painting radar completed the scan and went into Standby mode to await instructions. Further details would have to be gleaned from a visual inspection after boring down through the ice, a job the young girl didn’t envy but needed to do. Finishing her meal, she got ready to return to the ice.

Serenaya’s plane was badly hit, her Moonbat was dying and she couldn’t help it and she had to get out now or she would fall to her doom with the crippled plane. She had been detected by some unknown enemy sensor and then fired upon, the Moonbat’s silver shielding had not even deployed to counter whatever had hit them. Holes blew through the port wing in violent bangs sending molten globules of metal hissing into space, weakening the wing, leaving a man size hole with smoothly melted edges. A dozen smaller holes burned out towards the tip.

Serenaya screamed and fought to control the madly rolling plane as the controls failed on her, she used all her strength on the stick as the computers went down, ridding her of authority. In the blink of an eye the double mainspars failed in a cacophony of sound, puncturing the already damaged fuel tank turning a leak into a torrent. Serenaya screamed like she had never done before, “Mama! Mama! Save me!”

Fuel gushed out of the tear and hit the glowing metal around the main hole, hissing as the first stream turned to steam, a thin grey cloud trailing back in the airflow. As the wing catastrophically snapped upwards several things happened at once, Serenaya stopped screaming and fought to regain control to try and stop the fatal roll, both hands clutching the shaking stick. It did no use. From out of the corner of her eye she noticed “something”, as if the very air had boiled in a beam of superheated energy, a pencil thin beam of no colour cutting through the sky. Then it was gone, had she imagined it through the tears which blurred her vision? The released fuel touched hot metal and ignited in a bonfire of hell, turning to a wall of flame enveloping the tumbling craft in a momentary shroud of death. In the same instant the flash fire reached the main port wing tank, jaggedly torn open, the protective sealing now useless, as fuel escaped, air filled the space. In milliseconds the fuel air mixture was ideal for destruction, rapidly exploding, detonating in mind numbing violence to rip the folded wing apart. Spars, ribs, covering, control surfaces all blew apart in a cloud of shrapnel over a hundred feet across, leaving thin tendrils of smoke as the debris fell earthwards. Soon the plane would follow, a wounded warbird never flying again. The remaining wing structure flapped and broke away wrapped in flames, leaving nothing outboard of the engine mountings.

Flying at forty degrees angle of bank the Moonbat gradually rolled upside down, as both port engines seized due to fuel starvation. The massive four bladed prop wind milled to a stop and the jet flamed out almost instantly, taking over momentum the racing starboard engines held it upside down and spun them to the right, an inverted spin at the mercy of gravity. Serenaya shook her head as her world revolved, as she was forced out of her seat by the wicked negative g’s she had to pull out and force land, if only she could stop the spin and roll out she would be saved. Must use opposite rudder, cut both throttles to the good right engines, pull the elevators towards me to dive and then roll out. Come on! Come on you bastard! Slowly the nose came down towards the ground but that was it, all it did was to steepen the spin. Opposite rudder didn’t do a thing, had it failed? The asymmetrics of the fallen plane dragged it down to its death like a huge anchor, minus the left wing outboard from the engine nacelle both engines now dead weight, the Moonbat spun downwards. Serenaya realised that she was doomed and had to escape. Struggling under –3g she grunted as she took three seconds to reach the jettison handle, such a huge effort as the blood was forced to her feet away from her brain – a red out. In an instant the canopy snapped away into the slipstream like a skipping stone. Now for the seat straps and the gravity will force me away from the plane, her blood-starved brain told her. Not much longer now only a second more but she couldn’t undo the straps, she was held suspended in space above her seat by them, totally immobile, like a bug in a jar.

How had this happened? She had so much to live for, this couldn’t be happening, not to her for she was too good a pilot to be shot down. Her vision blurred as the plane lost a thousand feet in each turn. How high had she originally been? Thirty thousand feet? She couldn’t remember, she was held in her straps and gradually passing out, she called her lover’s name before the red mist enveloped her. His name was lost to the roaring wind of the slipstream, as a great sadness from deep inside her soul hit her, briefly torturing her before darkness claimed her. Mercifully Serenaya was unconscious as her beloved plane dizzily spun inverted into the cold grey ocean in a huge cloud of spray. When it cleared nothing remained except a patch of fuel…

“Wake up Serenaya! Wake up! You were dreaming,” Johann said in a concerned voice as he reassured his shaken girlfriend, who looked like a scared rabbit. For now she didn’t know where she was, then she took in her surroundings, her lover, Johann, of three precious years. “I was having a nightmare, I was in the plane that’s meant to be under the ice. Only I was flying it and I got shot down and died, it was so real like I was really there,” Serenaya whispered.

“But you don’t even know if the damn thing is there, it could be all some old story made up by drunks or such like. Listen, forget about it, come with me and we’ll go for a walk down by the river. You’ll enjoy it, I promise,” her boyfriend quietly said. It was a nice spring day and the fresh air would clear their heads.

“No, I’m okay, I need some time on my own. You go, I’ll see you later.” In her mind she now knew that she had to find the plane, recover it and help in the war effort. Even if it cost her dear like her precious relationship with Johann. Surely he would understand what she had to do?

That was three months ago, now on the icefield again Serenaya found her mind drifting back to the day that had brought her here. Yes a lot had changed but she would succeed, nothing but her own death would stop her now, she said to herself and if she ever got the damn plane flying she would fit an ejection seat. The disturbing dream still troubled her with vivid pictures burned into her mind, she still wondered what did it mean?

Serenaya was born in a quiet coastal town some twenty five summers ago to a poor family, whose only income was fishing by a small river that ran by the town to the sea. Her parents deeply loved their only child and did all they could for her, hers was a happy life of mild winters and warm summers. Her hometown was home to some thirty thousand souls who farmed the land and lived off plentiful supplies of fish from the sea. Serenaya’s father had lost his brother in a storm before her birth, that day had changed him forever. Never again would he venture out onto the sea in a flimsy boat, testing the might of nature. But he was still a fisherman and the local river was his saviour with a good supply of fresh water fish to support his small family. Serenaya preferred fresh water fish they didn’t taste of brine. Her father Hans wanted his daughter to follow his lead and become a fisherwoman on the river, keeping the old tradition going and all that. She had other ideas telling her father when she was eighteen that she was leaving home to become a fighter for the Twenty Sixth, to defend her homeland against the enemy insurgents that had caused havoc at the frontier outposts. Hans was silent for a long while after his daughter’s decision but he finally said, “If it is really what you want to do, then go but we will always have a place here for you. You will never be far from our thoughts.”

Her mother Lana cried hysterically begging her only child not to go, she couldn’t bear the thought of Serenaya being killed on some nameless battlefield and having no known grave. It utterly brought her to her knees and only Hans’ reassuring words of love convinced her that it was okay to let Serenaya go. She was an adult after all and could do what she wanted but that didn’t mean her actions wouldn’t upset other people. Before this home leaving point Serenaya had had a life full of love, the simple things in life and the studying of the arts of nature in all their forms. From the age of six Serenaya had been aware of “another” world which existed in parallel with her physical one, she could sense some kind of presence in her room at night, not a dangerous one but more protective. She was frightened at first and told her mother but she was scolded for telling tales, this convinced the young Serenaya to keep quiet in future and to deal with it in her own way. The next time she felt the strange presence in her room at night she simply asked what it was, what it wanted and if it would harm her. These were the simple but effective ways of a highly imaginative child. Could there really be something there? She soon found out. At first nothing happened and she felt a little silly for talking to herself but an unworldly thing happened quite suddenly. A soft voice filled the small room saying, “Don’t be afraid my little one. I am your friend and will watch over you, for all of your long life. Long ago I was on earth just as you are, I was a great healer and a witch with special powers. I had special powers just like you will have one day, you are now becoming aware of them. Please don’t be scared, they are a gift. Please use them wisely.”

Serenaya almost cried, “Who are you? Are you real?”

“Yes I am real dear child. Don’t doubt that, have faith in that fact. I have many names in many tongues but I want you to call me Juniper’s Daughter,” the voice answered, slowly fading to nothing – it was gone.

The little girl pulled her thin bed covers over her head and cried silently, upset by the unknown rather than by terror. In her mind something had changed, for the better, for her magical journey had started now. Serenaya was becoming aware of spirits and much more would follow in her later years, this had the potential to positively benefit the whole world. The spirit voice would return three more times in the next few years but only be heard in her head and from those moments onwards she embraced life like never before, learning all she could. Serenaya was a keen pupil, she read old books on witchcraft, went out into the forests to collect herbs, berries and such like. She practised her craft in secrecy, remembering the way her mother had scolded her so long ago.

In all respects Serenaya was a normal quiet girl who attended the small working class school for children and teenagers whose parents couldn’t afford private schools. Her education was basic but as she grew up, her abilities matched and often exceeded that of the other pupils. In English Serenaya loved reading and became a talented writer, influenced by writers dead for over a thousand years. The ancient words of text appeared alive and as new just as they did all those years ago, to the young student that age was a deep unfathomable mystery brought alive in words. In art too Serenaya shone above fellow students showing great skill in watercolours and sketching, she often spent whole afternoons in the forest drawing and painting, lost in her own timeless world. At the age of sixteen Serenaya seriously thought about becoming an artist for a living, she was very gifted, enjoyed it tremendously and found the thought quite romantic. But reality took over, in her town of thirty thousand souls there was no need for an artist, her fellow inhabitants weren’t really art lovers, Serenaya was an exception. At this time the slow burning conflict with the Stone Collectors flared up more seriously when a number of settlements and towns were destroyed by the enemy. Serenaya realised that things could get worse and that those places had been like her own home town, full of people with brothers and sisters, husbands and wives, fathers and mothers. One more thing was to change her mind and make her fight for the Twenty Sixth and to the final journey to the icepack.

Serenaya went to a local bar with her two friends Katie and Sarah for a Friday night drink and a laugh. At nearly 17 all three had part time jobs at the local fish market and had become good friends, a regular drink was a basic enjoyment for the girls. In the local bar, The Ocean Wave, the drink was cheap and produced locally in various strengths from watery to treacle like. Alcoholic volume matched accordingly.

Sarah was two weeks younger than Serenaya, while Katie was a month older than Serenaya. Sarah wanted to become a doctor and was working at the fish market to pay for her training, which she would start next year. Katie didn’t mind working at the market, she would decide next year what to do with her young life. Serenaya was idly staring into space listening to idle bar chatter when a figure blocked her vision; startled at first she nearly dropped her drink. Regaining herself she looked at a man, perhaps five years older than her, who stood before her. He smiled and held out his right hand and spoke in a deep voice, “Hi, I’m Hugo. I didn’t mean to startle you you have my apologies. Can I join you?” Serenaya blushed as she took his hand.

Serenaya made up her mind instantly, “Okay then, I don’t see no reason why not, yes please do.” She was sure that he was being sincere; her female intuition gave her no cause for alarm. Bringing a stool over to join her Hugo sat down and ordered a drink. He asked Serenaya if she wanted one, as she already had one she politely refused. Maybe later.

Her two friends had been talking amongst themselves over the state of the local men when the tall stranger approached Serenaya. Both Katie and Sarah became silent as they looked at Hugo, for he was ruggedly good looking even with several days of stubble. He wore the semi-casual uniform of a pilot, one of the few remaining in the Twenty Sixth. Serenaya made a note of this and knew that this was no ordinary guy, he would be skilled in the arts of war and of flying, flying a machine defeating gravity. How amazing! I have to find out his story she thought.

“So what’s your name then? As I said I’m Hugo, I’m a pilot for the Twenty Sixth. I’m off to the front in a couple of weeks but staying on the edge of town for now. At the Valley Range bit there’s a dirt road that we use as a temporary strip,” Hugo explained. The last bit was secret but this pretty young girl was on his side and he didn’t think it risky to tell her. Far from it, Hugo was nearly tempted to tell her about his deployment plans, order of battle and his warcraft’s capabilities but common sense prevailed and he bit his tongue.

“My name is Serenaya, I’m a local girl. I live down the road and work at the fish market by the harbour. These are my two friends, Katie and Sarah. Meet Hugo,” she introduced the tall pilot to them, both never took their eyes off Hugo; he would be some catch for the lucky girl who netted him.

“Isn’t it dangerous? I mean fighting in the war with the Stone Collectors. I’ve heard so many bad tails from what was happening, I wish that it could all be sorted out, I really do,” Serenaya commented wearily. She was tired of endless reports of battle, of who had done this or that to whom.

“Well, you’re right, it is dangerous and many of my friends have been killed because of it all. Both sides have tried a number of times to sort this mess out over the last few years. They even signed a cease-fire but that lasted two weeks. I can tell you many stories, all true, about it all but I wont bore you. I actually love what I’m doing and to be in the air in a machine is as close to heaven as I’ve been, well almost,” Hugo went on, his firm deep gaze staring into Serenaya’s she noticed his look and looked away at the bar, blushing slightly. Sarah saw this and took her chance.

“Hi, I kinda like you and wondered what you’re doing later. Only I’m free and got no one to share my time with, do you fancy spending some time with me? I’d like that a lot.”

“That’s a bit to the point, isn’t it my friend? I just want a quiet drink and then to get back to my squadron mates. Maybe some other time, thanks anyhow though,” Hugo evenly said, taken aback by Sarah’s forwardness. She was let down that he didn’t want to be with her but no meant no and she couldn’t change that. Sarah exchanged glances with Katie and then remarked: “Serenaya, me and Katie are leaving now. We’ll call in The Anchor for a last drink and call it a day, do you want to come?”

Serenaya took her time to reply, thinking about staying with Hugo or joining her pals. She was in a dilemma noticing Sarah and Katie standing up fastening their coats, looking at her impatiently. She glanced at Hugo who smiled briefly watching what her reaction would be in this situation. He was really pleased that the two girls were leaving, especially after Sarah’s advance that made him feel rather awkward. Any other time and he would have gladly gone with her but not this time, here there was a greater prize, a pretty young girl called Serenaya. And it appeared that fate was on his side at least up to now.

“No, no, I’ll stay here and have my last drink with Hugo before I go home. I’m a little tired. I’ll see you both soon have a drink on me,” Serenaya told them both. Katie answered first, the shy girl being a little drunk. “Don’t do anything that I wouldn’t do or what Sarah wouldn’t do. Your inhibitions aren’t like mine! See you soon Serenaya and Hugo!” with that both girls linked each others arms and pranced out into the cold evening, smiling like a pair of fools. Serenaya blushed bright red and Hugo didn’t know where to look, he was lost for words. “I must apologise for their behaviour, they aren’t normally like that and Katie is usually the quiet one! That’s the first and last time that she shows me up like that! All I’m doing is having a drink with you.”

“I know what are they like? My intentions are honourable anyhow. Do you want that drink now before the bar closes?” Hugo eventually said.

“Yes, I’ll have a double Mule’s Piss.”

“What’s that? I haven’t heard of that before.”

“It’s made up of local vegetables, carrots and spuds. Its lethal if drank in large enough quantities. Try one, you’ll like it.”

“Okay then.” Catching the barman’s eye Hugo ordered two Mule’s Piss. I’m nearly pissed now and I’ve got a patrol to lead in the morning, there will be trouble if I’m not fit to lead it he thought. To hell with it one last drink wont be that bad.

He paid the man and passed a glass to Serenaya and picked up his own, the clear liquid shone in the subdued barlight giving the illusion of a glass of water. Maybe it was this that made Hugo down most of the liquid in one, until the fire burnt his throat and his eyes struggled to focus as he spat the remainder of the liquid onto the bar where it took the grime off the wood. Who needed paint stripper? The barman laughed until tears came into his eyes and managed to say, “It’s the same every time, what a crack up! You should take your time mate, that’s the strongest drink in town. You just found out the hard way!”

“Are you okay? Hugo you look a little pissed,” Serenaya asked concerned. Hugo was able to regain some control of his blurred vision and burning throat, he looked at the bar where pools of Mule’s Piss had soaked down to the bare wood and then at Serenaya who coolly sipped her drink again. “That shit is fucking lethal! I can’t feel my tongue and my throat burns like fuck. I’m not falling for that again, fuck me. I’ll leave drinking that stuff for now.”

“I’ve seen people knock that stuff back half a dozen times and that happens every time, it cant be drank like beer. It’s twenty times stronger. Anyhow you two, I have to shut up and clean the bar and re-varnish it kicking out time in ten minutes,” the barman told them.

“Let me drink my Mule Piss first! I’m not knocking it back like Hugo, no bloody way!” Serenaya commented.

“I’ll be okay, my head is starting to spin though. I’ve a patrol to lead later on, I’ll be all over the sky with that stuff!” Hugo commented as the barman left the pair alone while he did his cleaning, telling several other people to get ready to leave as he put chairs onto tables. Serenaya drank her drink and walked with an unsteady Hugo out into the night, he struggled to walk in a straight line mumbling, “Serenaya, I want you to come back to where I’m staying. I’m not sure of the way and I’d love to talk to you and get to know you a bit better. And I want to…” he never finished his sentence, he turned red and looked up into the dark cloud laden sky, his sky. Yet she guessed at his meaning, his wishes even though she was so young and inexperienced.

“Alright then. I can’t let you stumble about a strange town when you don’t know your way about. Yes, we’ll talk; we’ve both got lots to tell. And for the rest…” Serenaya looked the drunken flyer straight in the eye, “I don’t mind, really I don’t.”

He smiled and embraced her, over balancing and pitching them against the wall. It was the young girl who saved their skulls, their eyes locked and faces were so close…yet they didn’t kiss, not yet, but an understanding passed between them. A bond formed.

Together they walked to where to where Hugo was staying at the Valley Rouge suburb that was Hugo’s temporary home, along with his squadron mates. He was staying in a small house on his own; it was nothing more than a one room building but small and homely. The staggering drunks walked down dimly lit streets in a seemingly random order but Serenaya was taking them to the Valley Rouge bit, years ago once home to several well off families. Today most of the dwellings were empty and the remainder taken over by fishermen and other traders, the pilots were staying at the last empty ones used as simple guest houses, a bed and a roof and not much more. In the war military personnel had to be billeted where possible.

“I have never had another job, this is always what I’ve done and I never want to stop, I live for flying. From when I was a kid I dreamed of being up there, now I’ve achieved my wish. How about you Serenaya, have you ever flown?” Hugo managed to say, as he looked at his companion in the darkness, just able to make out her face. Not a single light shone behind the black windows.

“Flown? Up in the air? No I haven’t, it’s something I’ve never thought of,” Serenaya answered. Flying was as alien to her as walking on the moon.

“I have to conduct a flight later today, a short one to check out the system on our birds, to get a look at the area from the air and to photo the strip for the squadron records, before my main mission. If you want to I can take you up with me, strictly secret of course.”

“Oh, I don’t know, I’m kinda scared of it never done it before and what if you get caught? With me there?” A moment of silence followed as Hugo collected his drunken mind, putting some order in his thoughts, “I think it would be fine, all it takes is your decision. Don’t think I’m pressuring you or anything.”

“Hell, yes, I’ll do it! I’ve never done it before and it will be quite a new experience. Are you sure it’s safe?” Serenaya grinned back.

“Quite safe. I will look after you, you have nothing to fear my dear,” he replied as they stopped talking and stood facing one another. Later looking back, Serenaya couldn’t remember who kissed first but it was pure heaven and it went on for some minutes. Hugo broke the embrace first and Serenaya had to deal with emotions unlike the likes she hadn’t felt before. A rush of happiness came over her followed by a wave of acute embarrassment. For a minute both looked at each other and said nothing, then Serenaya quietly said, “What is the road you’re staying at? We’re nearly there.”

Hugo told her and they made their way there, more soberly now. A low hill led up to the small house, once inside Hugo got the simple stove going to do them hot drinks, none alcoholic. Serenaya told him about herself, about school, her parents, her home, her hopes and dreams and more. It was a simple yet special story of a girl that little bit different from the others, Hugo was amazed at the intelligence of this eighteen year old before him. She was very adult in her outlook on life and he could easily imagine that she was twenty-four, his age and not just eighteen. He would do anything for Serenaya, would he lay down his life? For now he told her his story, of friends like brothers who had died in the crucible of combat, of his parents and of his new feelings for a girl called Serenaya. One thing caused him some sadness though, many of his companions stayed single, never settling down due to the nature of their job – airwar pilots defending their country. Hugo was different, he wanted someone to be there for him and to love him, he wasn’t prepared to stay single because of his dangerous occupation.

With drinks finished Hugo yawned and gestured to the single small low bed, “I’m so tired Sarah, I want to sleep. All that booze made me drowsy, want to join me?”

“Yes but nothing happens, understand? I’m not like my friends you met earlier, I’m tired myself.” The thought of doing things with Hugo made her feel strange but the need for sleep was great and she trusted him not to try it on. Serenaya had never slept with a man, that was one area that her pals had more experience of, was that good or bad? Hugo took off his shirt to reveal a firmly toned body before he put on a roughly made top, he passed the girl a similar top and turned off the light so he could take his uniform trousers off. This saved Serenaya’s embarrassment of Hugo seeing her naked without the darkness. Minutes later both fell asleep in a bed made for one, Hugo held Serenaya in a reassuring embrace as she slept with a smile on her face. Morning came six brief hours later as dawn filtered through the thin curtain and dirty windows, chasing away the night to cast shadows over the two occupants. Serenaya woke first and spent sometime staring at the dim shadow of the window thinking of last evening, nothing had happened like this before to her. It was new and scary but she felt fine about things, was she starting to like Hugo? She thought that she was, definitely. It was then Hugo opened his eyes and caught her looking at him, she held his gaze as he smiled and kissed her long and deep with tongues. This was new! But she knew just what to do and what a feeling… Hugo’s hand moved up Serenaya’s back and she shivered as he pulled her towards him. She felt the bulge of his erect cock and a sudden warmth filled her insides, she didn’t stop him taking off the simple night robe so she was naked. Nor did she complain as he stripped with difficulty in the small bed, hurriedly they made love with a passion that Serenaya thought was make believe before now. Centuries later after their love making she knew this was the man who took her virginity, he was the special first one.

Rising to have a quick wash and getting dressed she looked forward to her flight in Hugo’s plane. He could get into trouble but what the hell? Now he was her boyfriend and she was his girlfriend, how her young life had changed…

On the dirt strip that served as an airfield Hugo reported for duty, on time and looking smart in his pilots uniform. Nothing was amiss, to look at him no one could guess the evenings past events. He walked to the trees to the planes covered by green netting to hide them from spying prying eyes, joking with the ground crew he signed for the plane, helped them pull away the netting and did a walk round of the bird. Nothing amiss he opened the cockpit and climbed aboard, powering up the systems and starting the engine. All in the green, he advanced the power and the plane moved out of the parking area to the strip, to the take off area. As he turned it into position no one saw the small lithe figure run to the plane and climb aboard the open cockpit before the pilot shut it, before take off. Serenaya was sat on Hugo’s knee as he sped down the strip and into the sky, taking them both into the blue. A simple circuit of the field to check the controls then a speed run and climb to height, a roll, a dive, a loop, a stall turn, a simulated attack on an enemy plane for they were unarmed. Then Hugo let Serenaya fly his plane, she found this easy and immensely enjoyable. After what just seemed like minutes the plane landed, again reversing the routine Serenaya quickly jumped out at the end of the landing run and hid in the bushes, safe…

Years later Serenaya remembered how she had heard about Hugo’s death. Even now this hurt her, for tears fell down her cheeks as she silently wept for her loss. He was shot down and killed, murdered, by an enemy plane, even as he tried to bring his crippled bird back the enemy gunned him down. He had no chance, his attacker was never even scratched, so superior was the enemy plane to his slow yet agile fighter. Serenaya was a widow even though his death was two weeks before their wedding, she swore she would do everything in her power to get even and win this horrible costly war. That meant a new plane, so superior that nothing would touch it, where would she find that? She met mercenaries who promised four dozen of the best rocket planes built, she even made love to several merc’s but not even her body could provide the planes. Then she heard of the plane under the ice, a thousand year old legend of a lost war machine – the best built at the time. If it could be recovered then it could be updated with new tech and kit, be the best ever built, filling the sky in their thousands destroying the Stone Collectors once and for all. Then she came up with a plan to go to the ice and find the lost fighter under all that ice, over time she achieved her dream. Raised the ravaged plane, brought it back to a secret Twenty Sixth base so it could be stripped down, rebuilt and serve as a model for a huge air army of such planes, Moonbats as they were named.

Time moved swiftly on, the girl was no longer young but almost forty years of age. Her fleet of Moonbats blew the enemy Stone Collectors craft from the sky, bombed their troops, factories, cities and everything else needed to wage war. Victory had never been closer… then one fine summers day it happened, the end of everything.

Serenaya was leading a flight of Moonbats into battle, she had just shot down an enemy rocket fighter when she saw it – a silver disc shaped craft zooming up into the blue sky from the distant forests far below. Dipping her plane steeply to catch the mysterious craft as it climbed past Serenaya wondered if this was a Stone Collectors new weapon? Was it better than a Moonbat? She soon found out, as she pressed her gun button sending laser plasma to kill the flying disc that rapidly closed from below. She hit it, seeing her beams reflect off the smooth shiny surface until they burnt through the hull to the insides, sizzling whoever was inside. Victory was ours, the Twenty Sixth had…

Inside the disc Juniper’s Daughter was about to end this final conflict between mankind when her disc was hit by blue laser fire from the diving plane. The witch tried to edge the disc out of the way but the plane was too fast even for her, for her disc. They were hit, the hull breached and flames and plasma shimmered forth before the witch died and the craft exploded. This was Serenaya’s last kill, before her world was overtaken by the light of creation Serenaya heard a voice she thought she would never hear again, Juniper’s Daughter screamed, “Serenaya! What have you done? You’ve destroyed the world, I wanted to stop this fighting. I came so close to doing that, you won your little war but you destroyed your, our world!”

Viewed from outer space the explosion of Planet Earth was beautifully spectacular in its brilliance and destruction, a Type C planet was obliterated as the flying saucer exploded setting off a huge chain reaction with natural matter, in turn turning gravity on its head adding to the annihilation, the final Armageddon of our world. Seranaya would meet Juniper’s Daughter and Hugo and her parents and her enemies but in a different context and place. Soon only swirling gas and rocky debris remained of the earth, forming a gravity pool that in turn created a black hole leading to somewhere else…

my 1st blog on here

Wednesday, 20 November 2013

JUNIPER'S DAUGHTER - THE FINAL WAR BY NICK ARMBRISTER VERSION ON AMAZON

No comments:

Post a Comment