Their Darkest Hour (47 page)

The name seemed to shock Robin out of his drunken haze.  Of course he’d heard of Abdul – he was supposed to be one of the ringleaders behind the resistance, linking together groups as disparate as National Front racists and Islamic Fundamentalists.  The name had been mentioned by captured insurgents during their interrogation, but none of them had known where Abdul based himself.  Some policemen had thought that the name was a joke, yet the aliens had taken it seriously.  The reward on Abdul’s head was massive.

“Don’t worry, they don’t know I’m here,” Abdul assured him.  One hand rubbed the uniform, mockingly.  “It’s amazing how many people spy the uniform and don’t look past it to the face.”

“We don’t know what you look like,” Robin managed.  Up close, Abdul was almost unmemorable.  He had no beard, but otherwise he could simply have faded into the crowd and vanished.  Bearded Asian men had often been targeted by the aliens, purely on suspicion.  One of Robin’s fellow policemen had joked that the aliens found beards intimidating because they couldn’t grow them themselves.  “And now...why are you here?”

“I was told that you might know where some weapons are stashed,” Abdul said, lightly.  “I think that it is time we talked, don’t you?”

Robin staggered to his feet and stumbled over to the shower.  The water in London was often turned off and then on again by the aliens, purely to remind Londoners who was in charge, but there was never any problem with the water in police complexes.  He turned the knob and blasted cold water over his head, shocking himself awake.  Part of him wanted to sound the alert and call for help, but the rest of him...if Abdul knew that Robin had been involved in hiding weapons, what else did he know?  It wouldn't take much to alert the aliens to his betrayal – and they’d definitely see it as a betrayal.  All weapons were supposed to have been surrendered to them.

“Fuck,” he said, as his mind finally caught up with him.  “Who told you?”

“Does it matter?”  Abdul asked.  “All that really matters is that we need to talk.”

Drying up the water dripping from his hair gave Robin a moment to think.  He hadn't been the only copper involved in hiding weapons, and two of the ones who had had deserted after the first riots.  One or both of them could have found Abdul and shared confidences with him, naming Robin as someone who had hoped that he would be in the position to do something about the aliens one day.  But that day had never come...

“Very well,” he said.  “What do we have to talk about?”

“You know that the aliens won’t ever leave on their own,” Abdul said.  “Do you really believe that that collaborator asshole they have speaking for them can influence them in any way?”

“No,” Robin said.  He’d never trusted Alan Beresford, even when he’d been MP for Haltemprice rather than a collaborator claiming to be Prime Minister.  The man smiled too much, among his many other failings.  There had been rumours of shady dealings, but nothing had ever been proven.  And now it was too late.  “Do you believe that fighting them will make them give up and go away?”

“It’s all we have left,” Abdul commented.  “You do know that the Vietnamese drove the Americans away after years of inconclusive warfare?”

“Years,” Robin grated.  It felt almost as if the aliens had
always
been on Earth.  Had it really been less than two months?  “Do you think that we can keep fighting them until they give up and leave us in peace?  Or simply drop a massive rock on our heads and slaughter the remaining humans on Earth?”

“There’s little other choice,” Abdul said.  He leaned forwards, warningly.  “We need your help to hit them, policeman.  Think about your people and join us.”

Robin hesitated.  “My wife...”

“We can get her out of their reach,” Abdul assured him.  “We’ll fake her death and hide her in one of our bases.  All it needs is for you to decide which side you’re on.  Do you support your fellow humans, or ugly aliens intent on turning us all into slaves?”

Robin looked down at his hands.  How much blood was on them?  How many had died, at least in part, because of him and his fellow collaborators?  The aliens had slaughtered humans when protest marches had gotten out of hand, to say nothing of threatening mass slaughter to get one of their captives back.  And they’d succeeded.  The resistance had surrendered their captive, despite endless complaints on the internet that one city was a worthwhile trade for an alien who might finally provide real answers.

“My fellow humans,” he said, finally.  He reached for his uniform, feeling a flicker of the old pride he’d felt when he’d first donned it as a fully-fledged policeman.  “What exactly do you want me to do?”

Abdul smiled and told him.

“Write a letter to your wife,” he said, afterwards.  “We’ll make sure it gets delivered.”

***

I should be part of the attack force
, Alex thought sourly, as she parked the car outside the house.  It was situated in one of London’s surrounding towns, a nice place to live if you could afford the rent. 
I want to hit back at the bastards, not play secret agent...

Most of her wounds were healing, thankfully, but the medics had been insistent that she should avoid actual fighting for at least another month or two.  Alex had pointed out that they could hardly send someone back home to recuperate when the aliens had occupied the entire country, yet they’d been insistent.  She’d been tortured, raped and abused and she really needed time to recover.  They seemed to expect her to break down at any moment, rather than being determined to get back out there and keep righting the Leathernecks.  The doctor had strongly urged her to go to the Highlands of Scotland or one of the other long-term resistance bases and had been surprised when she’d refused.

She climbed out of the car, ignoring the handful of sharp glances from pedestrians as she locked the door behind her.  Only collaborators had fuel for cars these days; the aliens hadn't touched this part of Britain as much as they’d touched London, but their presence was keenly felt.  They had a base only a few miles away, part of the ring of steel surrounding London proper.  She touched the Browning she’d stuffed into her coat pocket – just in case, even though she had papers that should have fooled the aliens – and walked up to the house.  There was the faint sound of music coming from inside.

Calmly, she pushed the button.  There was no sign that the neighbours had realised that the house’s lone occupant was married to a collaborator, but if they ever found out...some wives and children of collaborators had been bullied, or isolated, or even murdered by their former friends and neighbours.  The door opened a crack and a lady with Italian features peered out.

“I have a letter for you,” Alex said.  “I suggest you read it now and then come with me.”

Helene Harrison skimmed through the letter, her eyes going wide.  “I am to come with you?”

“Yes,” Alex said.  There was no time to argue.  “Don’t worry – you’ve nothing to worry about.  Just come with me for your own safety.”

There was a pause as Helene picked up a bag she’d positioned at the doorway and then came outside.  Alex felt an odd flicker of jealousy as she realised just how beautiful Helene was, before seeing the fear in her eyes.  She hadn’t seen her husband for over a month and yet her neighbours would condemn her, if they ever realised that he was a collaborator.  But he could have died when the aliens hit Scotland Yard...Alex glanced at Helene and realised that she pitied the girl.  The Helene Harrison’s of the country were whom the RAF had existed to defend.

She climbed into the car, checked the Helene was buckled in, and started the engine.  They had a long journey before they reached the safe house – and they’d have to abandon the car along the route.  Who knew how closely the aliens monitored human vehicles?

Chapter Thirty-Six

Near London/London

United Kingdom, Day 50/51

They approached from the west, crawling low to be sure that they weren’t seen as they neared the isolated station.  A simple chain-link fence provided security, barely a moment’s delay for SF soldiers who’d been taught lock-picking as part of their intensive training before they were unleashed on Britain’s enemies.  No one should have been anywhere near the station, but they checked twice before relaxing slightly and locating the keys they’d taken from the bunker.  The door clicked open, revealing nothing, but darkness inside.

Chris Drake pulled a torch from his belt and clicked it on, aiming it into the darkness.  They’d been briefed that the isolated station – part of a contingency plan that had been drawn up during the Cold War – had been left untouched for years, but it wouldn't be the first time some vagrant had set up home in an isolated building.  The building looked untouched, however; a thick layer of dust bore silent tribute to the years since it had been built and then abandoned.  He found the hatch on the ground, inserted a different key, and breathed a sigh of relief as the hatch opened without trouble.  It led down a long rusty ladder to an isolated part of London’s sewer network, one that had been sealed off from the main network years ago.  Chris hooked the torch onto his belt and started to climb down the ladder, bracing himself for the smell.  None of these tunnels had been cleaned for decades.

“Clear,” he called back up, once he’d reached the bottom.  The sewer network extended all the way from London out into the countryside.  London was honeycombed with tunnels, some known to the public; others known only to the government, or simply forgotten in the years since they’d been built and abandoned.  It was a way to get in and out of the city without being detected or stopped by the aliens.  “Come on down.  The smell is terrible.”

The others chuckled as they clambered down and found themselves in an abandoned sewer, standing on a walkway that led into the darkness.  “Better not fall into that,” one of the Marines commented.  “Worse than that shitty pond at Kandahar.”

Chris snorted as he started leading the way down the walkway.  “You want to bet that some mutant turtles have been breeding down here,” he said, flashing the beam of light over the still water.  “People used to put crocodiles down here with the rest of the shit they threw out.”

“Thank you, sir,” the Marine said.  “I won’t ever be able to wipe that image from my mind.”

The walk seemed to stretch out into hours.  It was strange to think that the aliens were just above them, watching for any signs of trouble.  Chris knew that smaller parties of insurgents were meant to be launching a series of attacks to keep the aliens busy, but there was no way to know just how they were faring down in the tunnels.  The torch flickered once as they reached a crossroads, reminding him of all the horror stories he'd read of monsters lurking deep underground.  Aliens from
Alien
, sewer monsters from
The X-Files
...as a kid, he’d loved watching horror movies.  And even as an adult, the memory still sent a chill running down his spine.

They reached the end of the tunnel and stopped dead.  There was supposed to be a way around the blockage, into the parts of the sewers that were still working.  Chris puzzled over the chart, before realising that they had walked past a smaller tunnel that connected to the main stream.  The roof seemed to be closing in on them as they passed through a hidden door and out into the main body of the sewers.  From what he recalled, most of the sewage was pumped out of the city, cleansed and then...actually, he couldn't remember what happened then.  They weren’t allowed to simply pump it into the Thames any longer, if he recalled correctly.

“Jesus,” one of the men commented.  “What a fucking pong.”

Chris nodded, trying hard to breathe through his nose.  In the distance, he could hear the sound of pumps pushing the sewerage through the tunnels.  The environment was a breeding ground for rats, according to the briefing – he saw one running along a pipe before vanishing into the darkness.  They seemed to have almost no fear of humanity, running up and almost touching their boots before jumping back to avoid kicks from the soldiers.  Chris remembered that rats had carried diseases in pre-modern times and shuddered.  The aliens had broken down a great many health and safety systems.  There were probably places in Britain where scurvy and other long-forgotten diseases had returned to torment the human race.

He saw a light in the distance and reached for his pistol, before realising that it was the welcoming committee.  Two of the soldiers who had been in London ever since the invasion were waiting for them, including someone he hadn't seen since the Battle of London, when he’d been swept out of the city by the river.  He called his name and ran forward, heedless of the danger of slipping and falling into the shit.  It had been far too long since they’d seen one another.