shadow formed outside his room, and then came a gentle rapping.
‘Can I come in?’ said a gentle voice on the other side.
He said nothing at first.
‘Please, we have to go.’ said the voice, with a little more urgency. ‘Can you please come out?’
‘Go away!’ he screamed.
The door handle began to turn. John entered the room and simply looked at the boy for a minute. Oscar had no choice but to do as he was asked.
‘Grab what you need, Oscar. Hurry up about it.’ he said, sternly, as he started to disappear from view. Oscar grabbed his coat, bolted across the landing and made his way down the stairs as fast as he could.
John and the others were waiting in readiness to make their move out of the house and as far away from the armoury as possible. The idea was to move back to the city, but the lack of men had left the rest of The Independent Mind wanting. There were among them some weapons-experienced women who had no ties. John had plans for them. The chosen were to stay behind and defend the prize, ready for the reinforced Independent Mind to try and destroy the armoury again—a job that Miriam and the others that went with her had been incapable of doing.
‘We need to think about moving out.’ he ordered. ‘Let’s go, people. Hustle!’
In single file, each one passed through the solid oak door. They glanced at their surroundings before heading out into the street.
‘Move, people.’ he barked with impatience. ‘No dilly-dallying.’
The pace was picked up tenfold as they almost ran from their destination, with the children trying to keep up with them. The women chosen to stay went in the opposite direction from the rest; they were heading to take up their positions within the Kentish countryside, close to the armoury and ready for battle.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
M iriam lay upon her uncomfortable bunk, staring blankly at the Nissen hut’s crude corrugated metal ceiling. She nursed her ribs (bruised from another unwarranted beating) and wondered what was happening to her comrades. She had no one to tend to her; the other inmates had been warned to stay away on threat of death. She was a traitor, and the guards thought she ought to be treated as one, especially as the ringleader of the group that had plotted and schemed to render the government useless in a time of war and mistrust.
She had been summarily tried for treason, and a date had been set for her execution. Each member of the ill-fated cell had been dealt the same sentence. She, however, had been named as the leader by her so-called friends and colleagues, under the brutal interrogation techniques administered by the camp’s torture technicians. She would face the ultimate punishment for her crime—being burnt alive! Yes, it was medieval, but it was an effective deterrent.
She had been segregated from the other Independent Mind operatives upon arrival at the camp. From day one, she had known nothing but pain and the guards who were relentless in prescribing it. That was the way things would remain. The administration had cruelly arranged for her execution to take place on the day of her fortieth birthday, 22 April, 2032. The only thought running through her head was of relief.
Two days remained before her misery ended.
CHAPTER TWELVE
J ohn Cutter and what remained of The Independent Mind had covered many miles in a few hours, but the children’s need to rest was weighing heavily on them. They were running out of light to be able to go any further anyway, so it was the perfect opportunity to stop for the night. But where would they rest? They were in the middle of nowhere, only corn and rapeseed fields for miles. The corn was tall enough for shelter, but hardly an ideal situation for the children. However, needs must when the devil drives.
‘Just a little further, everyone.’ he shouted back, leading them off the road and into the cornfield.
‘You can’t be serious!’ one of the women squawked angrily. ‘You can’t expect us to
‘Can I come in?’ said a gentle voice on the other side.
He said nothing at first.
‘Please, we have to go.’ said the voice, with a little more urgency. ‘Can you please come out?’
‘Go away!’ he screamed.
The door handle began to turn. John entered the room and simply looked at the boy for a minute. Oscar had no choice but to do as he was asked.
‘Grab what you need, Oscar. Hurry up about it.’ he said, sternly, as he started to disappear from view. Oscar grabbed his coat, bolted across the landing and made his way down the stairs as fast as he could.
John and the others were waiting in readiness to make their move out of the house and as far away from the armoury as possible. The idea was to move back to the city, but the lack of men had left the rest of The Independent Mind wanting. There were among them some weapons-experienced women who had no ties. John had plans for them. The chosen were to stay behind and defend the prize, ready for the reinforced Independent Mind to try and destroy the armoury again—a job that Miriam and the others that went with her had been incapable of doing.
‘We need to think about moving out.’ he ordered. ‘Let’s go, people. Hustle!’
In single file, each one passed through the solid oak door. They glanced at their surroundings before heading out into the street.
‘Move, people.’ he barked with impatience. ‘No dilly-dallying.’
The pace was picked up tenfold as they almost ran from their destination, with the children trying to keep up with them. The women chosen to stay went in the opposite direction from the rest; they were heading to take up their positions within the Kentish countryside, close to the armoury and ready for battle.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
M iriam lay upon her uncomfortable bunk, staring blankly at the Nissen hut’s crude corrugated metal ceiling. She nursed her ribs (bruised from another unwarranted beating) and wondered what was happening to her comrades. She had no one to tend to her; the other inmates had been warned to stay away on threat of death. She was a traitor, and the guards thought she ought to be treated as one, especially as the ringleader of the group that had plotted and schemed to render the government useless in a time of war and mistrust.
She had been summarily tried for treason, and a date had been set for her execution. Each member of the ill-fated cell had been dealt the same sentence. She, however, had been named as the leader by her so-called friends and colleagues, under the brutal interrogation techniques administered by the camp’s torture technicians. She would face the ultimate punishment for her crime—being burnt alive! Yes, it was medieval, but it was an effective deterrent.
She had been segregated from the other Independent Mind operatives upon arrival at the camp. From day one, she had known nothing but pain and the guards who were relentless in prescribing it. That was the way things would remain. The administration had cruelly arranged for her execution to take place on the day of her fortieth birthday, 22 April, 2032. The only thought running through her head was of relief.
Two days remained before her misery ended.
CHAPTER TWELVE
J ohn Cutter and what remained of The Independent Mind had covered many miles in a few hours, but the children’s need to rest was weighing heavily on them. They were running out of light to be able to go any further anyway, so it was the perfect opportunity to stop for the night. But where would they rest? They were in the middle of nowhere, only corn and rapeseed fields for miles. The corn was tall enough for shelter, but hardly an ideal situation for the children. However, needs must when the devil drives.
‘Just a little further, everyone.’ he shouted back, leading them off the road and into the cornfield.
‘You can’t be serious!’ one of the women squawked angrily. ‘You can’t expect us to
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