Never Never (3 page)

S
arah couldn't believe
what she was hearing. Was Mike really standing up there telling everyone they were going to storm an effing castle? Had they all lost their minds? She looked around the dining hall to see the laughter and the excitement spread from person to person. Almost everyone there had a child or baby on their laps. It was insane to think any of them were going anywhere—let alone to attack some castle!

“It's exciting, is it not, Sarah?” Nuala said as she led her boys past. “Living in a castle?” She shifted her newborn in her arms. It was hard to imagine how difficult life was for Nuala—three children and no husband. And yet, her eyes sparkled with excitement.

Madness
.

Mike sat down and two of the nuns appeared on either side of him to serve him his breakfast.

He already looks like the lord of the manor
, Sarah thought.
Throw in a jester and a knight or two, and he's done.
There were enough people crowding around Mike as he ate that Sarah knew she'd have to wait to finish her discussion with him.

They were not leaving
. Or at least
Sarah
was not leaving and she couldn't imagine Mike would leave without her.
Would he?

Things had been tense between them all summer. Ever since the baby was born. Mike had spent more and more time with the men—which was unusual. She tried to imagine the last time they'd had an intimate exchange and it surprised her that she couldn't remember.

It was true she'd been busy most of the summer getting John ready to go in the fall, and then helping the nuns with the harvesting, the weaving, the baking. With so many more people to care for, it had been a lot of extra work. And of course, there was Siobhan. She wasn't an easy baby.

Not at all like John had been.

Sarah felt a splinter of unease invade her gut and she forced thoughts of her son away.
It doesn't help.

Sophia and Siobhan left the hall with another of the young mothers. Fiona joined them, Declan shuffling silently behind her like a recalcitrant teenager. Poor Declan. He'd been such a force before the accident. Sarah felt a flush of guilt for only thinking of herself when Fiona and Declan had so much more ongoing daily pain.

One of the young women who'd come with Fiona from the rape camp sat down next to Sarah. Jenny had not been impregnated—although not for lack of trying on the bastards whose job it was to get her with child—and now she was waiting to be returned home.

“How are you, Jenny?” Sarah asked, her eyes still on Mike as he spoke with his men and some of the women.

“I'm grand, so I am,” Jenny said. “Just waiting for Regan and Jaz to get back, ye ken?”

Jaz and Regan had decided to bring the kidnapped women from the rape camp back home—those that wanted to go. Two women who'd delivered their babies earlier in the summer had opted to stay with Mike and Sarah's group but most of the others were anxious to go home. Jaz and Regan left with a young woman the same day John went to the UK. The same day the second EMP went off. They were traveling by pony cart so the EMP shouldn't affect their journey. At least Sarah prayed not.

“Are you next on the list?” Sarah asked.

Jenny nodded. “I haven't seen me mum in two years. She probably thinks I'm dead.”

“What a happy day that will be for both of you. Your reunion.”

“Oh, aye,” Jenny said with a frown. “Only I was wondering…since I never got preggers, do ye think I should tell her the truth of it? Me mum, I mean.”

“You mean about the…forced…”

“The rapes, aye,” Jenny said. “It'll upset her something brutal.”

“I imagine it would.”
Only I cannot imagine
.
I don't want to imagine.

An image of little Siobhan flashed into Sarah's mind and she felt sweat beading up on her forehead.

“Are ye all right, Missus?”

Sarah's stomach lurched and she turned to catch a glimpse of Siobhan even though she knew the baby was safe with Sophia.

What is wrong with me?

“Just a little warm in here,” Sarah said.

Mike stood up and she got eye contact with him. He nodded toward the door.

“Listen, Jenny. I need to go. I'm sure whatever you decide to do will be fine. Your mother will just be happy to have you back safe and sound.”

Sarah hurried toward the door where she met Mike. He put a hand on her shoulder but addressed the people following him out the door.

“I'll be having a private word with me wife now,” he said. “You all know what you need to do. So start packing. If the weather's decent, we'll leave by the end of the week.”

“How? On horseback?” Tommy asked.

“We have three wagons and eight horses,” Mike said, turning and exiting the room.

“Will we stop at the compound on the way?” Liddy asked.

“Aye. And load up what we can. Mind you, we'll be back before winter sets in for anything we've left behind.” He gave a meaningful look to Sarah. She knew his words were meant to reassure her.

They didn't.

She walked ahead of him down the stone lined hallway. The convent had six rooms off the center aisle. She, Mike and Siobhan slept in the far room across from Mother Superior's office. She walked there now, waited for him to cross the threshold and then pulled the door behind him.

“What was all that crap about taking the castle? Were you serious?” She stood with her hands on her hips. She knew she looked the very picture of a strident fishwife but she couldn't help herself.

“Just worst case scenario, Sarah.”

“But you said
nobody
could take the castle!”

Mike ran a hand through his hair and went to the bed where he sat down gingerly. A dark bruise was visible on his jaw from his time in the water yesterday.

Sarah knew she was being unreasonable. He'd just had a horrifying experience—escaping near death--and had the stitches and contusions to prove it.

“Aye. And nobody
can
take it—unless you trust the wrong people.”

“You mean trick them. Tell them anything to get them to lower the drawbridge so we can blast ‘em?”

“While I generally appreciate your American approach to things, Sarah, there'll be no need to
blast
anyone. I'm dead sure we can work something out.”

“What if they don't want to share their castle with us?”

“They won't have a say in the matter. Don't fash yourself, Sarah. The place might well be uninhabited. Castles are cold drafty places.”

“So now we're the bad guys?”

He looked at her with surprise. “How can ye say that?”

“Attacking a castle? Taking it from people who were there first?”

“Sure they can stay,” he said, massaging his knee. “If they behave themselves.”

“Do you
hear
yourself?”

“Look, Sarah, I ken that history isn't your strong point but in this part of the world there are three ways to come into possession of a property. Either ye buy it, inherit it or ye take it. And they're all equally valid.”

“That's abominable. And it's not even a rationale.”

“Duly noted.”

The fury built up inside her until she thought she might slap him—even as bruised as he was. He was doing his usual steamrolling decision-making for the whole community and nobody but Sarah seemed to mind.

But she did mind. She minded very much. Before she could decide if words would have any further affect on him, there was a loud rap on the door. Sarah jumped at the sound.

The door opened and Fiona stuck her head in.

“Oy,” she said with an elfin grin. “If you two can table the battle for a few hours, I think your son needs you, Mike.”

Mike stared uncomprehending at Fiona.

“You're about to become a Granddad, ye old berk!” Fiona said gleefully.

H
urley stood in his room
—twenty by twenty with a single bed shoved against the wall and a metal table that served as dresser and nightstand.

It had been a full week since the second EMP—or what the higher ups were
calling
the second EMP. All the lights were gone. All the vehicles were nonfunctioning. The stoves and what paltry communications technology they'd cobbled together in the last five years—all of it was gone and they were right back where they started.

He glanced at his watch. 0700 hours.

You'd think having lived through this once they'd have a plan for how to move forward.

You'd think that if you'd never spent an hour in the army.

Oh, there were meetings—always in the daytime since even after a week they were running out of candles and kerosene—but no answers beyond
wait for someone to come find us
.

Would it be the US? Everyone in Ireland seemed to have a relative living somewhere in the States but chances were good the Yanks were the
reason
they were all back in the Dark Ages 2.0.

Hurley tightened his tie and left his quarters.

There were no meetings today. The officers had decided to wait for rescue to come in whatever form it would. Hurley wasn't surprised at all. In fact, he was counting on their passivity.

The guard on the outside of the noncommissioned bachelors quarters turned to watch Hurley emerge.

“Morning, Sergeant,” the guard said.

Hurley would have preferred he not speak but a part of him was relieved there was a guard posted at all.

Today was the day it was all going to get real. He could cut this poor blighter some slack.

“You're in F squad, Corporal?”

“Aye, sir.”

“We're not in the navy, Corporal.'”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“Gather your squad with rifles and bayonets and meet me at the parade grounds at 0730 hours.”

He enjoyed the look of shock on the man's face but instantly reprimanded himself. He'd fallen into sloppy habits himself and appreciating the surprised reaction from others was one he would need to break.

“Yes, Sergeant,” the Corporal said before turning and disappearing into the dark.

Hurley glanced at the officer's quarters, a long squat building on the far side of the parade grounds. There were no lights on, but even when they had electricity just seven days earlier there wouldn't have been anyone up at this hour.

All of that was about to change in a serious way.

The sound of a rifle shot sounded from outside the camp. Hurley frowned. Civilians didn't have firearms—not unless they attacked a soldier and took theirs. He heard men's laughter and then another gunshot. He touched the gun in his shoulder holster and went in the direction of the voices.

He ran down the front of the darkened mess tent and past the building used as Garda Sochia headquarters. A cluster of soldiers stood by the front gate beside the large form of a dead animal on the ground.

“Attention!” Hurley bellowed. Five of the six men snapped to attention as he approached. The sixth man grinned and put his hands on his hips as if the rules didn't apply to him. On the ground lay a black bear.

Without thinking, Hurley pulled his gun from his holster and shot the grinning soldier. The man's mouth dropped open in shock as he clutched his stomach and sank to his knees.

Hurley turned to the other five. “What's going on here?”

No one spoke. Hurley walked to the bear and nudged it with his boot. He looked at the men and saw one of them licking his lips nervously.

“We…we killed a bear, Sergeant.”

Hurley holstered his gun and glanced at the man he'd shot. He wasn't dead but it probably wouldn't be long. He pointed to one of the men.

“You. Carry this man to the clinic and then report to the parade grounds. Where's your rifle?”

“In…in my barracks, Sergeant.”

“Get it.” Hurley turned to the other four men. “How did this bear get here?”

“The zoo, Sergeant,” one of the men said. “They've been roaming free all week.”

“Roaming free?” Hurley looked at the camp gate and then down at the bear.

This was a sign as sure as anything could be.

For as long as Hurley could remember he'd dreamed of life in a military regiment. But even fifteen years in the Garda had not fulfilled that particular yearning in him. In the readings he'd done as a kid, he knew the one true army—the paragon above all others—had been the imperial Roman army.

After a lifetime of ridicule for what he knew to be true, it looked like Padraig Hurley was finally in a position to realize his dream.

“You four,” he said, “round up whatever man eating zoo animals you can. Tigers, lions, whatever will do the most danger to our city. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sergeant!”

“Where should we…how should we collect them, Sergeant?”

Hurley forced himself not to smile. Experiencing the pleasure of his own hubris was clearly another habit he would need to break.