held at the back of your head, you’ll do whatever they bloody well want you to do.’
‘You really think it’s going to come to that? You think they’ll try and get us to go up there?’
‘Perhaps not yet, but…’
‘But what?’
‘But they might do eventually. Put yourself in their shoes. You’d probably try and do the same.’
The conversation stalled as each of the survivors stopped to take stock of Cooper’s words. He knew how the military minds worked better than any of them. Each of them knew that he was being frank and honest with them because there was no point trying to soften the blow.
Cooper was never anything other than straight and direct.
He had nothing to gain from scare-mongering or frightening the others.
‘How long?’ Donna asked.
‘How long until what?’ Cooper replied, assuming that the question had been directed towards him.
‘How long before they have to open the doors and go above ground?’
He shrugged his shoulders.
‘Don’t know. I don’t expect they know either. We’ll just have to sit and wait.’
‘For what?’
‘For their air to start running out,’ Emma interrupted quickly.
Another break in the exchange. More silent contemplation.
‘It has to happen, doesn’t it?’ Michael said with a tone of honest resignation and acceptance in his voice.
‘What?’ mumbled Croft, only half-listening.
‘I said it has to happen,’ he repeated. ‘It’s inevitable.
They call it Chaos Theory, don’t they? If something can go wrong, then eventually it will go wrong.’
‘Keep looking on the bright side, eh?’ grinned Baxter.
‘He’s right,’ Cooper agreed.
‘We’ve all seen it happen,’ Michael continued. ‘We started off in a village hall. There was about twenty of us to start with and we thought we’d be okay but we had to get away. Three of us found ourselves a house in the middle of the bloody countryside miles away from anywhere, but that wasn’t safe enough either. Built a bloody fence around it but it didn’t last.’
‘Same with us and the university,’ Donna said, leaning closer to the others. ‘Looked ideal when we first got there but the safety didn’t last. Things change and we can’t afford to just sit still and wait and hope and…’
‘And you’re right, the same thing’s bound to happen here eventually,’ Cooper interrupted. ‘Something’s got to give - more vents will get blocked, supplies will run out, the disease will manage to get in or something else will happen. It’ll take luck more than anything else to keep us safe down here.’
‘So what do we do about it?’
‘There’s not a lot we can do,’ he answered. ‘We just need to be ready for it when it happens, and be prepared to get out of here fast if anything goes wrong.’
Three days was all it took. It was mid-morning.
Michael was standing in front of the motorhome talking to Cooper about the sorry state of his battered vehicle.
Although it had been cleaned and overhauled to the best of their abilities with their limited resources, the machine still looked desperately dilapidated and tired. The two men’s conversation was abruptly interrupted when the hanger lights were suddenly switched on, filling the cavernous space with unexpectedly bright illumination. Having been forced to live in almost complete darkness for weeks the survivors covered their eyes and, for a fraction of a second, found themselves thinking more about the brightness and discomfort than the possible reasons why the lights had been turned on.
Michael was the first to react.
‘Shit,’ he cursed as he squinted and looked around, shielding his eyes, ‘here they come. This must be it.’
Cooper looked up and saw that the doors to the main decontamination chamber were opening. From deep inside the base a steady stream of dark, suited figures were beginning to emerge. Close on a hundred troops filed out into the hanger. They marched quickly and quietly.
Although their formation and manner lacked something of the discipline and precision Cooper had come to expect from his former colleagues, they were still clearly well organised and ready to fight.
‘Christ, they mean business,’ he mumbled.
‘What do we do?’
‘Get everyone ready to get out of here.’
The two men sprinted across the huge room, cutting through the soldier’s ragged formation. The sudden light and noise had already alerted the other survivors. Anxious faces appeared in numerous doorways before Michael and Cooper were even halfway across the hanger.
‘What’s happening?’ Steve Armitage asked.
‘What’s it look like?’ Cooper replied. ‘They’re about to open the fucking doors!’
‘Shit,’ was all that Armitage could say. Before he could react a further crowd of panicking survivors pushed passed him and spilled out into the hanger.
‘Get ready to leave,’ Cooper shouted. He hoped they weren’t going anywhere, but he felt duty bound to prepare the group for the worst possible scenario. ‘Get everyone into the vehicles.’
Without question or delay the frightened crowd began to hurriedly make its way across the cavernous chamber towards the police van, prison truck and motorhome.
Bernard Heath looked around for Phil Croft. He grabbed the unsteady medic’s arm and pulled him along. Whilst he could walk, his injuries still prevented him from getting anywhere with any real speed.
‘Get the kids,’ Michael yelled to Donna across the small, square room where the youngest members of the group tended to gather. She did as he said, ushering the few children towards the door. Emma, frightened and moving against the flow of the others, grabbed hold of his arm.
‘What’s going on?’ she began to ask. ‘What are they doing…?’
‘Get into the motorhome,’ he snapped anxiously. ‘I’ll be over there in a couple of minutes.’
‘But…’ she protested. Michael pushed her away, desperate to get her to safety quickly.
‘Don’t ask questions,’ he shouted after her, ‘just get yourself over there.’
‘Is that everyone?’ Cooper asked breathlessly as he returned to the hanger after checking the largest room was clear.
‘Think so,’ said Jack Baxter as he looked back across the immense cavern. He watched nervously as the rest of the survivors attempted to cram themselves into the back of the group’s three vehicles.
‘You two get yourselves over there and try and get that lot sorted out,’ Cooper ordered. Although he had never been formally recognised by the group as their leader, the authority and command in his voice was unquestionable.
Michael and Baxter turned and ran towards the others.
Cooper stood his ground and anxiously watched the soldiers. The roar of engines suddenly filled the base and an armoured personnel carrier took up position at the foot of the ramp which led up to the main entrance doors. Two smaller jeeps were driven out of the shadows and parked behind the first vehicle. He cautiously moved forward, his military mind keen to try and work out the tactics and intentions of what was about to happen.
‘Cooper,’ shouted Michael as the final few survivors jostled for space in the group’s battered transports, ‘come on!’
Cooper ignored him and instead moved closer still to the troops. He estimated there were somewhere between eighty and a hundred soldiers in the hanger and there was no doubt that this was a major operation. He knew that the officers (who, as far as he could tell, were still buried safely within the deeper confines of the base) would never risk sending such a large number of troops above ground unless they had absolutely no option but to do so.
He took a chance. He had nothing to lose.
‘Hey,’ he said, standing in shadow and reaching out and grabbing the arm of the nearest suited figure. The soldier nervously span around to face him. The protective mask and breathing apparatus partially obscured the
