 
Forgotness  
Book 2: In Forgotness

By Tom Fraser

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2017 Tom Fraser  
v0.1 2016  
v0.4 2017  
v1.0 2018

Smashwords Edition, License Notes  
Thank you for downloading this ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends.This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form. If you enjoyed this book, please return to your favourite ebook retailer to discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.
Book 2: In Forgotness

**Chapters:  
** 1. Slaggyford to Once Brewed  
2. Straight up to Quinton, avoid Dudley  
3. Tasmania and Moldovia  
4. We live in Forgotness  
5. J-Pop  
6. Chipping Norton not Chipping Campden  
7. The Strontium Dog  
8. Come An Eilein  
9. Fill That Tube

Chapter 1  
Slaggyford to Once Brewed

"Mint! You up?" there was knocking at the door. Of course I was up, this was an exciting day. A day we could actually change things, if everything went to plan, which was still doubtful.

I meant, it was great that Jane and Felix had got together. That was a lucky coincidence. Though it had taken some time to work it out.

Gina had phoned to say that a Priest had taken a girl that had been helping the band. And you just couldn't have that, who knew how they would have used the girl, to do... something, they were always up to... stuff and you just had to fight it as best you ccould.

Anyway, Gina didn't have a surname for the girl. But we'd tracked the Priest's car down to Tissington, an agent down there had found it abandoned at the docks. We had thought we were too late, that they'd gone to sea, but the agent had found some blood on the cuffs so at least we had the DNA and that gave us a name: Jane Dray.

So much police DNA information was kept and sold via the good old 'laptop lost in taxi' routine, as my dad would say, so many buyers in fact, health insurance companies mainly, obviously, that we had come across the database in quite a few hard drives over the years.

Still that got us the name, but we had thought we had lost her.

Until the Priest had got a new phone and phoned into head office. That got our hopes up and our assessment crews working on all the usual sources: phone, video cameras... and then there they were, outside Buxton getting into a van that was taking them to their death.

Still, Felix was made of some ferocious stuff it turned out and now they were somewhere on the other side of Skipton waters and just about everyone was after them.

I looked out the window. It was really quite a pleasant little bed and breakfast, stuck as it was, at the end of a very long, lonely track across Malham Moor. We had a view south over the heather and down to the sea, which was of course covered in mist, thank you oil burners of the world. And cows, don't forgot the cows.

The B and B was a bit over the top, unsure if it was a real country cottage or an advertisement for Italian marble. But it was clean, everything worked, which was rare around here, despite our best efforts.

There was another knock.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes, I'll be down in a sec. Any news?"

"I'll tell you when you get down." Prince John would have had him shot. The Priests? Crucifixion or some nonsense. Me? What the hell, does it matter? We get stuff done, we try to do good. And I get to wear some nice dresses along the way. Dad thinks I should 'tone it down a bit' stop 'showing everyone up'. But I will wear what I damn well want and I'm doing good stuff too!

And now I was getting angry. Just because I thought of Dad. Just because he still wears a Megadeth T Shirt under his jumper 'to remind himself'.

Everyone thinks they're the good guys don't they? So when we say: 'yes we can pretty well spy on everyone and control everything but it's OK because we are trying to make things better', it's not good. Yes we should stop, let everyone decide for themselves, but then Prince John and the corporations would rule everything and there would be no hope at all. So, for the moment, just for the moment, it's us against them and the people will just have to wait.

Yes I know how crap that sounds.

So, I'm not going to think about it for a bit.

For a bit.

Good outfit though. Looks the part, and it'll wind up the right people.

It's eight. Time to go downstairs.

"Morning team," I say cheerily heading to the hot plate. Yes! They have my porridge ready: grapes, date syrup, almonds and a cup of hot water with a slice of lemon. Good start.

There's a chorus of mornings. Six people sit round a table covered in bread products, coffee and laptops.

"Any of you get any sleep? Chris? Hack the Shepherd boat yet?"

"Yup," said Chris, finishing off the last of her croissant. "Piece o' piss, still XP, unbelieveable."

"Well Trident are, it's pretty likely everything else is."

"But after the Yorktown bricking, surely...?" Asked Sam, knowing the answer.

"That was NT, 1997," I pointed out, "Only a small jump from version 4 to 5. Can't expect much."

I tucked into my porridge. Not made with coconut butter damn it. Ah well. I managed to eat most of it. Better to finish this than be tempted by something else later.

"So, how about Commander Colme's boat? We in?"

"Yes I'm in," said David, the only boy on the team.

"Go carefully, they mustn't know. If it looks like they're getting close, just slow them down a bit."

"I know, you said last night."

"OK, but you know, just, they mustn't find out we can do this."

"They won't," he assured me.

"Any news on Jane and Felix? Sam?"

"Well, we know they went through Calderbrook. Well, you would have thought they would go through Backup."

"Great name!" laughed Chris.

"But they didn't," continued Sam, "so they must have stuck to the lanes to the east and got to Cornholme round that way. If they continued east we would have found them at any number of places along the way to Keighley: Oxenhope, Haworth, Oakworth. We've got some pretty good pictures of the van now so it would have triggered something somewhere."

"So they stayed well out of the way of everything then."

"Exactly, so they pretty well have to be here: on the west coast, west of the West Road, ie: out that window."

Sam pointed out to sea where, from this height, we could just about see the four miles to the opposite coast.

"No one's saying they've had a boat stolen, trespassing, nothing?" I asked.

"No," replied Sam

"And I guess he can swim. Being a Wetlander." It was unbelievable. We didn't know much about Wetlanders really. We had a few contacts. But to just go: 'I'm going to swim that sea today' was pretty scary. I wondered what Jane was making of it. Poor thing.

But Felix had proved himself pretty able. Not just with those Masons but avoiding the military and getting this far was impressive.

On a normal day we would have just gone and fetched the parawing ourselves but word had got out so fast. The Evangelicals had found out and that psycho Trumps had got wind of it too. We'd almost lost it then and there.

A current multiplier like that in the hands of Armagedonist America was terrifying. Not that Dad believed me. 'Let's just fix this place first hey, then worry about the rest of the world'. Always 'The Aviemore Computer Repairs' man at heart. Simply the best.

Parents...

"How close are Commander Colme and Father Jacob?" I asked.

"Er, Father Jacob's been past twice, so far, and is over Barnoldswick at the moment and will be coming back past here in about an hour. Then he normally goes east as far as Skipton before coming back again," explained Chris.

"And Commander Colme is over the A56/A59 junction at the moment heading towards the Martons. But she seems to be going very slowly, perhaps to be quiet?" that was David again.

"Right. Is the Land Rover powered up?" It was electric, of course, nice Tesla battery in it but it chewed through the power.

"Yes," said Tat, from the corner, her feet up on another chair and a book over her face. "All good to go."

"Right, well," I said, "let's wait and see what happens."

I cleared a spot on the table and my secretary, dear Enid puts up with a lot, brought over today's paperwork.

It wasn't all spying, though I had to keep on top of that as there were so many forces at work here in Scotland, there was the normal day-to-day business to deal with as well.

Prince John had kept the oil rigs running, the ones he could anyway, as they gave the nation or rather him, an income, something to export. They floated, so quite a few had survived the rise in sea levels, the earthquakes and ensuing tsunamis, the pirates and the other national interests; though there weren't many of them, most of Northern Europe was underwater.

We, the Linux Corporation, on the other hand were getting the wind farms going again and working on ways to store electricity (Tesla was gone, bloody Evangelicals) for the non-windy days. My favourites at the moment were: the heavy train at the top of hill - all the wheels are dynamos, the clockwork windmill - it makes electricity and it also winds itself up! There were other plans, mainly involving pumping water to places. Progress was being made and that was good. The oil companies and their allies obviously hated us and worked against us. Nothing new there.

Internet connection moved on. We were having some success using the power lines. Though there was a lot of pressure to fix the phone lines as well.

Then there was the international politics: Evangelist America and the Scientology wars, Europe and the new Catholic Roman Empire, North Africa and the Middle East were doing their muslim thing, Southern and West Africa was pretty stable, India and Pakistan were being surprisingly helpful to each other, South Russia and China were a bubbling post nuclear cauldron of crap, Australia and South America had each lost about half their landmass but were recovering at varying speeds.

Where would I move if I gave up here?

If you wanted old world then Czech, Switzerland and Austria were almost untouched, though currently a bit crazy with religion.

North America was even more bonkers than before, even though they had lost all the east coast and the south from Texas to Illinois. That left a lot of lets end the world bible-bashers to get excited and God-bothery in the middle and east side and the Scientologists to the west, hating each other. Constantly at war.

And history was a bastard. If we had just helped Africa a bit more then, maybe they would feel more like helping us now.

The Scandinavians, they made sense and, like us, were trying to rebuild but the volcanoes had made life difficult. Isostatic rebound was a... nearly a global catastrophic event.

No, we were better off fixing this place. Dad was right about that.

So I planned my moves and made amends and built bridges and generally fought the forces of evil: the Scientologists in Wales being a pain in everyone's butt, as were the New Roman Empire's Priests, and those bloody American Evangelicals. They all just wanted the oil of course but they couldn't say that. It all had to be: God says this and God says that.

Once the Saudi Family got the axe (literally) the whole Middle East cheered up pretty quickly. Probably equally as hopeful as the Scandinavians now actually. Mind you, it had helped that half of Israel was underwater too. Generally made everyone be a bit more neighbourly and helpful. Unbelievably.

Enid and I shuffled papers and made calls and generally got on with stuff.

Lunchtime came and went and there was still no sign of our friends from the south until David, who had given up watching Commander Colme's boat drift silently around the seas on his computer had taken up position at the window with some of the biggest binoculars I had ever seen, began talking.

"Um. Hey? No," he muttered, "Oh no, wait. What're you up to?"

"Who are you talking to Dave?" asked Sam.

"Er, well, the Shepherd boat is doing something odd out there."

"Like what exactly?" I asked.

"Seems it's circled round a couple of islands close to this end of the row."

"Can you see anything? Can you see them?" I meant Felix and Jane.

"Well, I thought I might have but I'm not so sure. The Priest's just gone off again."

I shook my head and got back to work.

"It's them, I can see them. Fuck's sake they are swimming."

We all jumped up and ran to the window trying to pull the binoculars off David.

"Ow! Wait a second. Ow! Stop pulling. God fuck my neck." I got the strap off his neck and Sam took the first look.

"Where do I look?"

"Down there," David pointed. We couldn't see anything staring down into the mist.

"What? Where? Oh there. Is that them? Could be ducks? Oh no they're people. Hello Felix, hello Jane. She's struggling a bit."

Sam passed them to me and showed me where to look. I could see them swimming but it didn't look as if they were moving at all. Then there were shouts around me. I looked over the top of the binoculars and saw the Priest's boat, it had returned and Chris was beside me!

"Chris!" I gave her a shove. She looked at me unsure why I was suddenly cross. Then it dawned on her.

"Oh crap! Sorry," she darted back to her laptop, "OK, OK, OK, OK, I'm back in. Tell me what to do."

"He's going over them!" Sam shouted. I looked again and couldn't see Felix or Jane. There was a wide white wash where they should have been.

"Can anybody see them?" I shouted.

"No!"

"I think they dived just in time."

"I'm not so sure."

Then I saw them. They had popped up about ten yards further on, but the boat was already coming down at them again.

"Dive Felix," I muttered. Around me everyone was shouting encouragement.

The Priest's boat passed over Felix and Jane a second time. When the boat was at its furthest point I called to Chris.

"Ready Chris?"

"Yup, all set."

"OK hard right now and kill the engines."

A second later the boat veered sharply to the right almost throwing the Priest over the bows. Then the boat sagged down into the water and slowed to a stop.

"Perfect, good, well done," I said to Chris. "OK, they're almost here. Let's get ready."

Then another shout went up and I looked to the left, east. There was the Naval patrol boat coming in fast.

"Dave!" I looked around and he was at his laptop.

"Ready," he said.

"They're going to make it," said Sam.

"Do you think?" I asked. Unsure, it was one thing to disable the Priest's Shepherd boat, but quite another to hack into a Navy ship. We already had enough enemies.

"Are they going to make it?" I asked again. "Dave can you glitch it, just for a second, make it drop 5% of speed?"

"I can make it start to defrag the harddrive, that should use up a bit of CPU and make reactions a bit slow?"

"Do it," I said. And watched the Patrol Boat get closer and closer. "It's not having any effect?"

"Sorry, I'll just slow it a bit more," said David. The boat did seem to slow marginally.

I could see that the Priest's boat were now lowering a dingy into the water.

"Come on, come on," I whispered.

"Attaboy!" shouted Sam as, at last, Felix and Jane scrambled out of the water.

"We need to get going." I passed the binoculars to Chris who was back peering though the window. "Let us know where they're going. Sam, let's go, Enid, come with me."

We headed out the door and into the electric Range Rover. I had a short range radio, with Tat on the other end. Her voice crackled:

"They've gone into the woods to the left, the Priest's about to land."

"Sam," I said, pointing downhill and east, "they're down there. Better get to them before they get themselves shot."

We edged though a narrow gate into a field below the bed and breakfast. But most of these fields had stone walls round and rarely more than two gateways. When we should have been heading downhill we had to keep to the top of the field to get through the next gate. We did no better in the next field either. Sam was swearing quietly.

"Can we get to those farm buildings?" I asked. It looked likely that Felix was heading there and it would have a road at least.

"I think so," said Sam.

A shot was fired and then more.

"Is this thing bullet proof?" I asked.

"Of course." Said Enid giving me a look.

"So we did. Forgot."

"They're almost at the farmhouse now." Said Tatiana on the radio.

"I can see them," said Sam, "they've gone inside."

We skidded through a gate and onto the road to the farm, then across the gravel almost hitting a girl in very little clothing as she ran out the front door.

Before we could say anything she bolted round the side of the house and was gone.

"Sam, go get her will you?" I said, turning to Enid. "We'd better get inside before this turns nasty."

We went in through the front door of the farm. Enid followed behind with her briefcase filled whatever she thought I was going to need next. She had amazing foresight and had saved the day more times than I could remember with just the right document or fact.

There was a lot of shouting going on in the kitchen.

A shot was fired and I tried not to jump. There was silence for a second and then I heard a voice shout: "Everybody down!"

No one moved. There was bit more shouting followed by a solider asking: "Ma'am. Who do we shoot?"

I walked into the kitchen.

"I don't think we need to shoot anyone do we?" I said as calmly as I could. Felix was standing close to me, his back against the wall. He was quite... what's a nice way of putting this? Quite earthy smelling and looked quite scared, which was surprising considering what happened to the Masons.

"Sorry I'm late. I thought you were coming ashore slightly to the west of here. Just goes to show doesn't it?" I whispered to him. It was supposed to be comforting, but I wasn't sure he had understood me.

Jane stood, recognisable from the picture we had, petite and dressed mainly in black underclothes holding a small gun. Soldiers filled the rest of the room though none were standing close to the Priest.

The Priest began talking and I cut him off.

"Call me Mint, or if you prefer a longer name Mint Ubu. I like them both, both together as well, they have a nice sound, even if it shows a certain single mindedness by my father."

"Lady Linux," Commander Colme looked tired but smart in her uniform, "do you know these two?"

"Yes I do Commander, thanks for asking," I replied, "this is Felix and over there with Father Jacob's gun is Jane Dray. Though are Priest's allowed to carry guns?" I asked. Which I probably shouldn't have as it set the Priest off. There was talk of God. I turned to Enid and found that she already had the letters I was going to ask for. I gave her a quick smile of thanks.

"Commander, if I may. I have a pass here signed by Prince John specifically for one Wetlander called Felix as a courier for the Linux family to enter Topland and make a delivery to us. As you can see," I continued, while Enid passed me a second sheet of paper, Sam had appeared behind her, "it is all in order and I have another letter here, of employment by the Linux family, for Jane Dray as an assistant. She is currently working with our art outreach project called The Sisters of Mersey from where she was kidnapped not by Felix here but by Father Jacob who then tried to take her overseas against her will."

"This is ridiculous," puffed Father Jacob, "you can't believe this nonsense. Commander, did you not hear about the four innocent men this mutant murdered on the road just north of Woodhead?"

"They were not innocent, they were going to fucking rape us and kill us!" Shouted Jane. "If it wasn't for Felix I'd be dead."

"It is true that Felix here did have to defend himself against four attackers paid for by Father Jacob. But luckily Felix is well trained in defending himself." I answered.

"He was hiding under the table just now!" Shouted Father Jacob.

"You paid them?" Screamed Jane. I think she was trying to shoot Father Jacob but I saw the gun barrel slide across my chest before going off. And Felix sank to the floor. There was blood on the shoulder of my dress.

I looked down and there was Felix sitting on the ground and as I watched, his body toppled sideways. Jane ran forward and cradled his head in her arms. She was crying. Everyone else was silent.

I turned to Enid.

"Enid, go get the medical kit will you, and a blanket if we can find one. Sam help me carry Felix to the car." I turned back to Commander Colme. "I have a fast car ready here. I am taking Felix to the nearest medical centre. Jane is coming with me. Do you need to look at the documents again or can we go, now, please."

Father Jacob started protesting as Colme looked at the letters.

"Everything seems to be in order, you can take them. They will have to be your responsibility for the time being and I imagine that there will be further enquiries about the deaths on the Woodhead road." She said.

"Of course," I replied as Sam ran back in and knelt down beside Jane and put a bandage on Felix's head. I walked over to the pile of cloth that I believed to be Felix's and picked it up. It was very smelly and felt wet and dirty. I held it away from my dress and thought about the various cleaning materials and towels in the car.

But most of all, it felt wrong, too small, too light, not like a current multiplying parawing.

I turned and left the farmhouse.

"Good luck with your Wetter." Called Colme after us.

Sam picked up Felix and carried him out to the car. Enid brought Jane, leading her by the elbow as she cried and Father Jacob came out with us.

"I demand to know where you are taking Jane Dray." He shouted. "This is completely wrong. Jane is mine, you cannot take her from me. You must give her to me now."

We got in the car and Father Jacob banged on the windows with the flat of his hand shouting as we drove off.

"He seemed a nice man." Sam said with a smile as we left the farm.

I looked over to the back seat where Felix's body lay, his head on Jane's lap and his feet on Enid's. Jane was stroking his hair and crying quietly.

"He's still breathing," whispered Enid to me. I nodded.

"You know Felix is a girl don't you," said Jane suddenly.

"OK," I said, "sorry, we didn't know. Bill and Ben never said."

"You know Bill and Ben?" Asked Jane looking up, surprised.

"You know Bill and Ben?" I asked back.

"Felix mentioned them. She seemed to really like them. How do you know about them?"

"Oh, they're sort of friends, business partners I suppose. They give us information and I send what I can to them. They were supposed to be sending something to me, something Felix was supposed to bring me."

"She never mentioned that. What was it?"

"Ah, well I am not one hundred percent certain what exactly it was." Which was a lie, Bill and Ben had been very specific about that and about what it was disguised as, but I needed to find out more about Jane before I was going to let her in on a secret like this.

"She didn't have much. I think I've seen it all. Unless it's a pointy knife, I'm not sure what else it could be." She stopped. "It's not the pointy thing in her hair, it's not like an ancient relic or something is it? Magical powers or something. Is that why the Priest is so crazy mad?"

"No, no," I stopped her, "it's nothing like that. It was some old tech they found underwater. It could really help... the world actually."

"Fuck," said Jane, "no, she never mentioned anything like that. How is she still breathing?"

"Ah, yes," I said, "hang on, time for some music I think."

I found the CD, Dart Attack and put it on and clicked to track 14.

"What is this shit?" Asked Jane as it started. "Are you trying to kill her?"

"Shh," I said, "just listen."

"What the fuck is this? Why?" Jane was getting angry and upset again. "What the fuck is going on?"

"Honestly," I said, "please just listen. It has really quite a nice sax solo, maybe not as good Shh-Boom, but it's pretty tight."

Jane scrunched up her eyes and bent down to kiss Felix's head.

The song played on. Sam tapped the wheel and I looked out the window and watched the endless wave of stone-topped walls pass us by in a blur.

"We were never sure of the word happysad. Someone once said the proper word to use would be bittersweet, or maybe rueful. But this song is the first one that ever made us feel happysad."

I turned round. Felix's eyes were open and Jane was looking up at me then down at Felix and back up at me again.

"Hello," I said.

"Hello, are you Mint Ubu Linux?" asked Felix.

"I am. And you are?"

"Yes, well Ben would call us Raid." Sam snorted a loud Hah!

"Yes he did mention that. Do you want to be called Raid?" I asked.

"Not really, we mean we understand why, but we are Felix."

"You could change it a bit if you wanted, to Felice maybe, it's bit softer?" I offered.

"Do we need to be softer?" Felix/Raid/Felice asked back.

"No. I just thought maybe as a girl you might prefer a more feminine name." Sam snorted again. I tried to give her a look which she studiously ignored, eyes on the road.

"Excuse me, what the fuck is going on? Who the fuck is Raid and how the fuck is Felix suddenly better?" Demanded Jane.

"I think," said Enid quietly, leaning across, "maybe that there are two persons inside Felix, Felice."

"She's schizo? She's not schizo."

"No. I am not Jane, its not like that. I have two brains inside of me. I am just the other one."

"Oh fuck, you're fucking kidding me. Two brains? Bollocks. Small brains make you stupid. You're not stupid and you can't fit two brains in that skull."

"Yes, well," I began, "Ben was never sure where the other brain was, he suspected in the chest cavity."

"Oh for fuck's sake that's crap. Brains aren't all used, so there's a bit of a hole in this bit," said Jane waving vaguely around the holed area of Felix's head, "and she's just managed to route round it a bit."

"No, Jane," said Felix, "we really do have two brains. Well, we think we do anyway. We leave it, or we have left it, up to Felix most of the time. And Felix's memories, Felix's life is our life, we remember it all, we have it all stored here, but she doesn't know about us."

"Nice one Raid," laughed Sam from the front seat. She put her hand through to the back for a high or maybe low five, but didn't get one. "Guys you left me hanging."

Sam pulled her hand back.

"Is Felix dead?" Asked Jane.

"We don't know, or rather we don't think so. Felix's brain is active, we can hear the sort of sub-routines working, maybe patching things up." Said Felix.

"But she needs a doctor?" Asked Jane.

"Yes please," said Felix, "we do still have a bullet in our head. Don't think it went in far though."

"Looks like a two two calibre hole, probably hasn't gone in far at all." I said wanting to join in, wanting to turn the conversation a bit. "Um, Raid?"

"Yes Mint?"

"Do you know where the sheeting is? You were carrying some special material, but I don't see it?"

"The parawing?" asked Felix, I nodded, "the parawing, Ben talked to us about it. Ben thought you were the best person to have it. To share it."

"That was the idea."

"To stop one group having it and using it or not using it even."

"It was a very quick conversation, but that was the gist yes."

"We don't have it,"said Felix.

"Yes, I thought that might be the case." Inside I winced. A lot of effort, a lot of enemies made and I might well have shown too much capability with this case, for what? For nothing.

"Leicester has it," explained Felix.

"And Leicester is? A city underwater?"

"Leicester is one of our best friends and came on this journey to the wall with us."

"And Leicester has it because?" I asked.

"Leicester really wanted to fly." Said Felix as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Of course he did," I answered. Could this conversation get any weirder?

"Did he?" asked Sam, who seemed to find the whole thing hilarious.

"Well, it was a difficult trip, but," started Felix, "Oh dear, I think we've got to..."

"Felix?" said Jane, "Felix!"

"Don't shake her, dear," said Enid, putting a gentle hand on Jane's. "I think she needs a rest."

"Did someone just hold down the power-off button?" Asked Sam.

"Shh." I said, trying not to make it sound like an order. I think Jane was crying again but I didn't want to stare. This day had been a whole lot crazier than I had imagined. I had imagined and, I thought, catered for quite a few crazies at that. If Dad got wind of what I had been up to... Well, actually I suppose there wasn't much he could do nowadays, but there would be a severe frowning at the very least, if not some sort of telling off.

Where was the parawing? Leicester must be a Wetter. Had he, or she of course, things seemed pretty lose in that direction, come through Hulland gate with Felix? Had someone else already got their hand on the tech? Neither Jacob nor Colme had mentioned it. Did that mean something? Or not? Had Trumps or the Scats or bloody WorldEnders got it?

"Jane?" I began, turning slightly to look at her but not so much as to seem interrogating. "Jane, did Felix mention Leicester at all."

She looked up but shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm not sure, maybe. Like a friend or something. I don't remember."

"Did she talk about meeting up with the other... colleagues who had got over the wall?" I noticed that Jane got a bit wary at that point, as if something had occurred to her, something that Felix had said that Jane maybe thought she should not pass on? A secret? About what? About after the wall? What they were doing here? They were coming to me. No they weren't, only Felix was. I thought maybe the others were cover but maybe that would be a waste. Maybe the others had other missions? What missions could they have had?

I realised I had been staring at Jane.

"Sorry. I shouldn't pry," I said, "look, I think we should all get some rest. Sam is going to drive as fast as possible and get Felix to a hospital. We'll have to get a couple of ferries and probably change cars at some point."

Sam nodded, tapping the power meter.

"But we will get Felix the best care. I am sure she'll be OK." I tried to sound reassuring. "In the meantime, it's been a long day and I think we could all do with a nap. I know I could."

I didn't, of course. Long after the snoring began in the back I was worrying about the parawing, worrying about what the fallout would be from defying the Priests, even if I did have some semi-legal paperwork.

I say semi-legal, it was legal, Prince John had signed it. It's just that he was prone to not reading things he signed so we would keep a few signed letters ready in the just-in-case folder for, well, moments like these.

It was not like I was going to abandon Jane and Felix. No, I wasn't like that. But I was starting to collect a menagarie of friends? Associates? Employees and unemployable-ees if truth be known. I tried my best for them but, well things moved on.

Nevertheless, here we were, driving back to Aviemore, where the nearest thing we had to a hospital existed. If Felix survived that long.

I fell asleep on the second ferry that crossed over the old A68, from Slaggyford to Once Brewed. Then we were haring across the Borders and the Lowlands, even getting on a motorway for a bit, the M74, then up the A702, until we got to a Linux-owned speed boat that Enid had phoned ahead for, that took us from Penicuik all the way to the foot of the A9 at Calvine.

There, a second car was waiting for us. We carried Jane and Felix onto it and set off up the A9 just as dawn rose.

At last I fell asleep and dreamt I was in a flying bed. Nice dream.

Chapter 2  
Straight up to Quinton, avoid Dudley

"Wake up you freak."

Not the nicest way to be woken especially after a day like yesterday. We couldn't move. Or more to the point we couldn't be arsed to move and felt like shit.

"Freak off." We tried to say but our lips weren't really working.

"Felix, wake up will you." We felt a kick.

"Fine!" We mumbled, then again, a bit louder as we got another kick. "We're getting up for freak's sake, what's the rush?"

"Alne wants us," said Leicester, "wants to show us some stuff and tell us 'The Big Plan'."

"Is there breakfast included in the big plan?" we asked, getting up slowly and folding away the parawing. "We've got to sort this out too. Got any spare rope?"

"Yeah, probably," said Leicester, "but we've got to get going; they're waiting on us."

"Well, come on then," we said wearily.

We crossed the little island and climbed up to the Treehouse. Alne was standing at one end of the room. There was an old Ordnance Survey map on the wall that showed all of old England with a thick blue line marking the contour line of the current water levels. It was sort of a guess but as we knew the water level here we could see which contour to mark elsewhere.

"Thank you Leicester," said Alne as we entered. "As we were saying: you're going to take two boats and sail north. There are places that are considered friendly and a lot more that aren't. What's the route?"

There was a chorus of:

"Cotswolds, Copt Oak, straight up to Quinton, avoid Dudley and sneak in around Cheadle, hide the boats then head north."

"Exactly. Now. We have managed somehow," Alne looked directly at us, "to wind up Trumps and the Mugs, so watch out for them. Do not drift too far west or you could get into trouble with the Scientologists, don't go to far east or you'll hit Priest patrols coming out of the Moors. Go straight up the middle.

"We have stocked up the boats with food and water, enough for a week. We have also got together a small store of petrol bombs incase of problems. You may find them useful to create a distraction when you reach the Gate. Try not to hurt anybody. Don't start a war but do stay alive. And come back, tell us what we can do to get in."

"Not much of a plan." Leicester whispered to us.

"At least we'll be doing something other than just swimming around here waiting to die." We whispered back.

"Something to say Felix?" asked Alne, "as ever?"

"No," we called back, "just keen to be off. Sounds like an adventure."

Alne gave us a look and shook her head.

"This is not an adventure. This is not fun. You could die. It's possible you could all die."

"We could all die here," someone said.

"We're all going to die anyway," offered another voice.

"Freak sake," muttered Leicester, "positive bunch."

"We want you to set off today, tonight in fact. With a bit of luck and if you stick to the plan, if Trumps is watching us, the Mugs won't see you leave and won't chase after you."

"What'll you do without us? We're what, eight of us going, you're not going to be strong enough if Trumps attacks." We asked.

"Oh, you know what," said Alne, smiling, "We'll be glad to see the back of you. We'll be fine. Don't worry about us. Just get up there, take a look around and come back."

"Don't Bill and Ben know all about the North?" Asked Cam. We hadn't noticed Cam down at the front with the bandaged head.

"They trade with the North but they don't know what it's actually like for those living there, how much space there is, what they would think about us moving north." Explained Alne. "And anyway, we don't think it's a good idea to discuss plans like this with outsiders."

"They are hardly outsiders, we've known them for years. They've been in the Smithy from the beginning." Pointed out Leicester then whispering, "and they know already."

"Look, we like Bill and Ben. But they're nicely set up on the Ridge and we're not. The Ridgeway is getting fuller and fuller every day. The only place that may have room for us and a real future that doesn't involve some nut-job cult is Topland.

"So," Alne continued, "get your stuff together, get some rest, see your family and friends and say goodbye. Then we'll meet at the boats when it gets dark, around ten tonight, OK?"

No one said anything. Alne rolled here eyes.

"OK?"

"Yes," we said all together, a bit half-heartedly.

"We love you all. Now get going." Alne waved us out of the tree house.

We climbed down and waited for Leicester and Cam. Brentford came and joined us.

"So Trumps is after your balls Leicester?" Brentford slapped Leicester on the back. "Trumps'll have trouble finding them."

"What? Well we certainly hope so." Said Leicester, faking a puzzled expression.

"'Cause they don't exist!" said Brentford, looking at us for the laugh. We didn't. "Tough crowd."

"Felix?" it was Cam, "did we give you Ben's message last night?"

"Yeah we got it, thanks."

"What was the message?" asked Brentford, "a meaningful message of luurve?"

"No," we said, "what's up with you anyway? Why're you so hyper."

"We're not hyper," said Brentford defensively. "It's good to be doing something, going somewhere new, seeing Topland."

"Well yeah," we said, "it's good to be doing something but it's pretty scary don't you think, we mean, the Toplanders shoot us don't they, if we try to get in?"

"Well, we don't know that." Said Cam. "Just because the traders say that, doesn't make it true. They just don't want us cutting them out of the deal by going to Topland direct. Bad for business, so of course they're going to say that."

"Suppose. Let's hope hey?"

"Freak," said Leicester, "we didn't get any of Alne's breakfast."

"Never mind, your Mum'll have something." We pointed out.

"Yeah but it's not as good as Alne's. She has oat cakes and shit."

"Fair point," we agreed, "your Mum's not the best cook."

"My mum's great!" said Leicester changing tone. "Just can't get the ingredients that Alne can get hold of. Doesn't share."

"Alne shares plenty." Said Cam.

"Exactly. Come on let's go get some grub." We said.

So we headed off to Leicester's parent's shack at the other end of Treetops. It was an old bus parked up on bricks with a chimney coming out of it's roof and bright curtains across the windows. Leicester banged on the door and we were let in.

"OK dear?" asked Leicester's Mum. "Your Dad's out on the allotment early today, wants to see how his slug killing went last night. Hello Felixstowe, how are you today? "

"What happened to the hedgehog?" Asked Leicester. "We thought that was working out well."

"It was but it died so we caught a big old toad and were hoping it would do the job."

"We paid a lot for that hedgehog."

"We know," said Leicester's Mum sighing. "We all paid for that bloody hedgehog."

"Has Dad got the radio working yet?" Asked Leicester laughing.

"Oh don't bring that up, Dad'll be in soon, please don't." There were few working radios at Treetops, or even on the Ridgeway, but Leicester's Dad had found one and for the last two years had been trying to get it working. It hadn't worked so far.

Leicester's Mum fried us up an omelette with mini parsnip chips, while Leicester spoke about Alne's plan. The omelette was good, the parsnip chips were somewhere between undercooked and raw.

"Oh, we know about that, it's not just Alne that thinks this stuff up you know. Just sending off our kids with out speaking to us about it? No, we know about it, and yeah well, just you take care of yourselves, don't get caught, don't get hurt. Felix you'll look after Leicester won't you, bit of a daft one sometimes."

Leicester's Mum ruffled Leicester's hair, while Leicester pretended not to like it.

"Muuum," we all laughed. We were all a bit jealous of Leicester's parents.

"We'll make sure the teeth get brushed." We all had toothbrushes at the moment which was preferable to twigs. A couple of months ago someone had found a way into the other Lambourn chemist and come up with hundreds of them. And condoms. Not sure which got the louder reception.

"Just make sure arses get wiped properly."

"Mum!" shouted Leicester.

"You get a bad rash sometimes."

"Oh for freak's sake! And you wonder why we're so keen to go."

"Come and give your mum a hug." They hugged but we noticed there were tears in both their eyes, so we looked out the window.

"Let's go Felixstowe," said Leicester and we left the bus.

"Where to?" we asked once we were outside.

"Ah," said Leicester, "I was thinking maybe we could take the bed for a ride as it were."

"Shit, rope, your mum got any rope?" We interrupted, Leicester went back inside, there was a bit of clattering then returned with some good looking green polysteel rope. "This should do hey?"

"Fantastic, let's go."

Leicester caught our arm.

"No, but hang on, what about," Leicester came in close to my ear, "flying this freak show?"

"We know, we just don't think it's a good idea right now. Everyone's kind of watching us. Trumps is probably out there somewhere keeping a beady baldy eye on us. It's not safe."

"What, not at all today?" Said Leicester sounded genuinely quite angry. "When is not not safe?"

Leicester looked puzzled at what had been said.

"You know."

"We do, but maybe we can pitch camp on a small island and have a shot of it, you know, after we've set off. Just get a bit of distance between us and the Mugs."

"We could just fly north you know, a freak sight easier than sailing or rowing all the way."

We ignored that: "We think we should disguise it, make it a hammock, a proper one, and then we can take it with us."

"What happens if you break it?" Asked Leicester. "You know with your big arse when you're sleeping or something, if it's delicate."

We were back at where we had spent the night. We picked up the parawing and felt it between our thumb and forefinger. It felt smooth and a bit thicker than a normal piece of sheeting.

"Do you think this can be broken easily? It doesn't look any different to normal plastic, these micro filaments Bill and Ben were on about must be tiny, invisible. My arse or anything else for that matter isn't going to break anything."

"Fine," said Leicester, giving the material a stroke. "But we'll be mightly hacked off if it's bust before we take it for a fly."

"You might not notice once you're buried ten foot in the ground after your cliff jump." We said giving Leicester a friendly shove.

"Yeah, we've been thinking about that." Said Leicester as we settled down in a quiet spot among the trees and got to work turning the parawing into a working hammock. "Maybe start small, run along the ground first, see what happens."

"Probably wise," we agreed as we started feeding the rope through the loops.

"But we will give it a go?" asked Leicester, "flying it."

"Promise."

It took us a couple of hours to convert the parawing and test it. It all looked pretty good by the end.

Then we had a bit of the communal fish and vegetable stew for lunch and in the afternoon started to gather round the two boats we were to be setting off in that night.

They were two old fibreglass sailing dinghies. One had a tiny cabin at the bow, the other, smaller one just had a flat bit of deck covering the bow area. Both had a small lift-able keel under the boat and a single mast rising just behind the bow. In these inland waters where the earth rose and fell beneath you constantly it was vital to have a lose keel that didn't mind banging into the ground every so often, though it did make for somewhat unstable sailing. If you hit the ground and were turned into the wind too much you could capsize in a second. We'd all done it.

There was just about enough room for 4 people and the baggage in each boat.

We were also storing weapons, food and water, the boats were going to be sluggish, at least to begin with.

"Trumps and the Mugs know the waters around here as well as any of us," said Alne after joining us and lending a hand packing everything in. "That's why we were thinking of taking the less obvious route north from here. So, perhaps, instead of going either west all the way round the Ridgeway and over Ashdown or going east round past Farnborough, you should go straight north past Down Barn Farm, to where the Ridgeway drops right down."

"What, carry the boats over?" interrupted Brentford.

"Exactly, thank you Brentford," Alne continued, "It's only fifty metres wide there, it's on a path, you empty the boats and carry everything across, reload and be off. You'll save yourselves a couple of hours sailing and completely avoid Trumps."

"Won't we be seen though?" asked Cam, looking better now, though still with a bandage around the head.

"Not really," we explained, "it's so low no one lives very close. Not even any allotments there."

"Exactly," said Alne, "it's a bit of bother, but it's safer and it's quicker. So we think that's the best way to go."

"Now, these petrol bombs," Alne went on, holding one up, "they're not a toy. They are to scare folk away, or perhaps burn a sail or wreck a boat, but don't go throwing them at people."

"Unless you have to!" shouted someone's parent. There were some agreements and disagreements to this. More parents and friends had turned up to see us off.

"We've talked about this," said Alne turning to the crowd, "please, weapons escalate. They can't fight their way north. We are sure goodness and kindness will work out better for them in the long run. In fact," she turned back to us, "we don't think you should have them at all but some, some folk insisted."

"Burn it up Baby!" shouted Brentford. We cringed and Alne fired out an evil stare. Whoever was smiling at Brentford stopped. Alne could do that.

"Keep to the rationing. It's all marked out, you've got a long way to go and you are going to need your wits about you when you get there."

"Talking about wits." Leicester whispered to me. "Have you got any weed? We've got a bit left but not much."

"We don't think so, hang on," we opened up our pouch, it was full to the brim, "um..."

"Freak me!" whispered Leicester, looking remarkably happy suddenly, "you holding out on us?"

"No," we saidfeeling very puzzled, "we've no idea where this came from."

Though we did have a half of a memory, about Ben giving us a bag. But we couldn't remember talking about it though.

"Result," said Leicester, "that's going to make things slightly more bearable. Two weeks with Brentford in a boat is going to be a long haul."

"Have you quite finished Leicester?" asked Alne.

"Yes, sorry Alne," apologised Leicester, "just making sure we were prepared for all eventualities. Can't ever be too prepared."

"Yes Leicester."

Then we had to check everything again and have everything explained to us again about the rations and the maps and the routes and Topland and it all got boring, until it was decided that everything was ready and we were to go to the communal fire pit for an early supper with friends, family and well-wishers.

"No drinking for the voyagers," announced Alne to some raucous booing.

It quickly turned into yet another Treetop party with the only casualty being the supply of homebrew. Alne did try a few more times to calm it down but we knew we weren't likely to be seeing another drink in a while, and possibly ever, so eventually Alne was shouting out the toasts with the rest of us.

By ten o'clock it was almost dark in an already cloudy night. There was a lot of hugging, a few tears, and last minute gift-giving. Our parents were long dead but Leicester's Mum and Cam's Mum each gave us a hug and a little stash of food: pinenuts and some dried fish respectively. Which was, well, really nice of them and we had to pretend to check the weather for a bit afterwards to hide the tears.

Then Alne shooed us into the boats, though we had to carry Brentford (of course), and quietly, without lights, we set sail and headed north for the Ridgeway. There was some silent waving and then Treetops disappeared in the dark.

We were all silent for that first run north. Some were drousy, others sad, others scared for their lives, and us? We just didn't want to run into Trumps and the Mugs.

Our boat had Leicester, Brentford (sadly), Cam and us. The other boat had Stamford, the twins Haines and Harlow and an oddball called Shirley who almost no one got on with but we kept feeling a bit sorry for. Not that it ever did us any good. Mean kid. No, misunderstood. We decided to try to get on with Shirley this trip. Not much else to do.

We were making about four knots with a light north-easterly wind. Alne said we had three hundred odd kilometres to go to get to the Topland gates, and another three hundred to get to the capital, Aviemore. Though Alne had stressed that we didn't have to go that far to get an idea of what we could do.

Would the Toplanders notice or care much if we moved onto one of the islands around the edges? Could we buy our way in with work? Was there any kind of deal to be made for a small group of people?

We knew we wouldn't be able to just walk up to the Prince and ask, but surely there was a way of opening up talks?

It seemed reasonable when Alne said it. But sometimes we thought they were just trying to get us somewhere safe, and those we left behind were going to die. But then everything about our life was precarious, uncertain.

"Hey Leicester," we called out quietly, "how long before we reach the Ridgeway do you reckon?"

"Another twenty minutes, half an hour." We both winced as the keel hit ground again. "We could probably lift the keel, we're so heavy the wind won't spill us."

"Bit embarrassing if we had to turn back because we had lost everything in the first hour. Imagine what Alne would say." We replied

"Fair point," there was another long scraping sound, "we're doing it anyway."

"Yeah," we agreed and lifted the keel up through the slot in the hull.

We could see the lights of people's homes and camp fires along the Ridgeway. A brighter light to the the west was Uffington Castle town and further round were the lights of the Smithy.

"Wish we were going there," said Leicester nodding towards Bill and Ben's, sounding doubtful about the trip for the first time, "freak knows where we're going."

"We know, and its something to do though isn't it." We replied.

Some time later we passed the lights around Kingston Warren and shortly after that we had to get out and push the boat towards the low shore ahead.

We suppose that thousands of years ago this had been a crossroads between the path that ran along the length of the Ridgeway and a path from the Lambourn valley down into the Thames valley beyond. Now it was a muddy track that just about kept the long Ridgeway connected without getting your feet wet.

When our boat beached on the grass we started to unload it and carry the contents the fifty metres or so to the other side. Then the eight of us lifted each boat in turn and carried them with considerable swearing, laughter and bumps to the water on the north side of the valley top.

We reloaded the boats. Both seemed incapable of taking what had previously fitted in quite nicely. But eventually we were able to cast off and head north again.

The valley fell away below us quite quickly on this side. We were able to lower the keels almost immediately and sail a bit faster.

The Thames valley was deep with nothing above sea level almost until Chipping Norton, thirty kilometres to the north, but we wouldn't be getting there for another four or five hours.

So, while the others got some sleep we took the rudder and, following the compass, headed north.

If we were to head more north-west then we could have reached the Cotswolds sooner. But these were dangerous times for the Cotswolds. The Scientologists in Wales were keen to expand east and with their American backers had the weapons and fuel to support a vigorous land grab. But recently there had been rumours of Evangelicalstaking over islands, there were stories of forceable conversions, executions and tedious religious lectures.

The Cotswolds had become a dnagerous battlegroudn between the two Americas and the previous inhabitants had been pushed further and further north, making Chipping Norton at the very northern end of the Cotswolds the safest place to head for.

We watched Leicester clamber over the snoring body of Brentford.

"We've been thinking about the parawing," Leicester started.

"Oh yes."

"We could try it now while everyone's asleep. You know, attach it to the mast. It should start working, it could be pulling us along." Leicester explained.

"But if it didn't?"

"Then we put it away and we kill you for breaking it."

"A: try. B: we mean, if it didn't work, then we stop moving, everyone wakes up, if they hadn't already, and start asking what the freak was going on. And what do we tell them?"

"We tell them we've got a sheet up as an extra sail and it didn't work."

"Look, everyone's suspicious already. If they find out we've got something that Trumps and the knob-ends want then they might toss it overboard. Or get rid of it or..."

"Share it, have a go, fix it. You just don't want anyone else to try it do you?"

"That's not it at all Leicester, come on. We're not trying to stitch you up. We just want to keep it safe. The fewer people who know about it the better for all of us."

"Know about what?" asked Cam wriggling out from under Brentford's arm. "Are you talking about your secret?"

"No," said Leicester.

"What secret?" we asked, a little too late.

"So there is one," said Cam with a smile, "and Trumps is after both of you, not just Leicester."

"Well, it was me that kicked Trumps in the nuts," said Leicester proudly. "It is probably us."

"And you Felix? Why's Trumps after you?"

"Dunno," we replied, blowing out air, "it's a mystery?"

"The mystery being your secret," said Cam, "which could get us all killed."

"Go on," said Leicester, "you may as well. Or shall we say?"

"Oh for freak's sake! Fine. You know how we found a stash of sheeting a few days back? Well, one of them, no, they all were in fact wings. Sort of parachutes but wings.." We started.

"Called parawings," explained Leicester.

"Yes, parawings. If you have a propellor then you move along the ground and these wings billow out and you sort of take off." We went on.

"You can freaking fly with one of these things." Interrupted Leicester again.

"Yes, you can fly, a bit like a parachute but going upwards."

"OK," said Cam nodding. "Not sure about the upwards parachute bit but: sheet, wings, fly, got you. Just like the picture on the engine you brought up."

"Exactly, anyway, as you know, Trumps nicked them all during our last dive. Except one, which turned out to be a bit special according to Bill and Ben."

"And us," said Leicester, "it worked for us."

"So what does it do?" asked Cam.

"Oh freak it, hang on," we stopped and put the tiller under our armpit, got our pouch out and rolled a number. Paper was in short supply but rhodedendron leaves worked quite well. We took a couple of puffs and calmed down.

"Fine. It's supposedly got this stuff, nano filaments that are super small, tiny, invisible, less than fur but kind of like hair, but smaller. There are millions of them all over the sheet and they flick about in the wind, or water, yes i was going to say that Leicester, and each flick makes a tiny tiny tiny current of electricity. "

"So a bit like a wind generator but not spinny, flicky."

"Yes, guess so. But also, that flick speeds the movement of air (or water – said Leicester) past it, so the next filament flicks a bit more and makes a bit more electricity. Ben called it a current multiplier."

"Cool," said Cam.

"So, I want to fly it," said Leicester, butting in again.

"Yeah, I bet," agreed Cam.

"Can we?" asked Brentford, sitting up a bit, "we want a shot too."

We gave Leicester an evil look. Leicester just grinned.

"So now the problem's solved." Said Leicester. "We go on a detour. Find a nice hill and jump off it. Tell the other boat we're looking for rabbits or something."

"This is not a clever idea." We said.

"Freak that," said Brentford. "It's a freaking great idea. Time we had some fun on this trip."

"We've only just set off," pointed out Cam.

"Aye and it's freaking boring," said Brentford

We gave the Leicester the rudder and climbed over the baggage to the bow. We went to sleep with a feeling of impending disaster as the other three stayed up discussing their flight plans.

  Chapter 3:  
Tasmania and Moldovia

"Here she comes."

It was like crawling out of a very dark cave filled with something very soft and sluggish. Water? But without the panic that drowning would bring on. Heavy clouds? If clouds were in fact soft to touch. But clouds were water, flying water. Light water?

We couldn't feel Felix, the other Felix. They weren't dead, just not awake, and it was us struggling to wake up.

"Felix? Can you hear me?" We recognised the voice. Not the one that shot us. Not Jane, the other one, the one that smelt good. Really good. Did we have the name? We did have the name. Ben told us the name, the name was...

"Linux?" that had barely came out. More like a slow cough. "Linux? Mint Ubu Linux?"

"Ate a girl. How do you feel?"

There was a question. We certainly felt all kinds of wonderful. About three quarters of the way through a mushroom trip that had gone nicely and we were just starting to come down and everything was good and we were having a number and listening to music and everything was smooth and mellow.

Well, we were obviously off our tits, just with something else we had not had before. So that was a nice way to wake up.

We had a hole in our head. Wonder how that was panning out. Trepanning out. Felix? Hello? Nothing.

The other thing. The other thing was that there were new sensations. We felt clean, like seriously clean. And our bed, and it really was a bed, was clean and soft and warm. And the air was kind of clean and soft and warm but with a funny smell, sort of sharp and clean at the same time.

All in all we thought the best option was to do nothing. Ignore the voice and go back to sleep and be cosy. Quite possibly cosy for the rest of our lives. Not sure we had ever been cosy before. But this was the definition of cosy for us. If we needed a definition.

"Felix," a hand touched our arm. Our arm was outside of the bed. That was a mistake surely. We tried to move the arm away, but it was grabbed by hands. Damn it!

"What are you doing?" asked the slightly angry Mint voice.

"What?" asked Jane in return, sounding tetchy. Then Mint told Jane off some more.

"Fine," said Jane grumpily. We heard Jane leave the room and come back in again.

"Felix?" there was a cool beeping noise a bit like some music Bill and Ben used to play us late in the evenings. Quite nice to listen to despite the rest of the chat going on around us.

"Felix," nicely timed to the music, do that again.

"Felix," Oh Jane was good.

"Felix."

"Nice," we said in appreciation of Jane's rhythmic skills.

"We know you're awake."

"So?" we asked.

"We'd like to talk to you," said Jane.

"You shot us." It wasn't meant to be an accusation, just something to say.

"Oh Felix, I'm sorry I really am." We could feel Jane's other hand on our arm now, sort of tugging it.

"OK OK," we tried to open out eyes. It was all very bright and white and new looking. Or maybe that's just what clean looked like: not found underwater and washed down and dried and then used some more.

"So, we suppose," we went on, "the big questions first: where are we?"

"You're in Aviemore Hospital. In a private room," answered Mint Linux.

"OK. That's... far. How did we get here?" we asked.

"We were driven," explained Jane, "and got ferries and drove up here."

"And this was how long ago?"

"Four days ago," replied Mint.

"Freak! And then?"

"Well, then you got here and doctors looked at you and your head and the bullet wound. And they took out the bullet. It hadn't gone in deep, hardly at all actually. So, you should be OK."

"OK. But we're not all awake?"

"No. It seems there was trauma to the brain. And, well, no one's very sure. But there's a good chance you will be back to normal soon."

"So, the other us is just resting? Asleep? Unconcious?"

"Something like that. One of those," said Linux, "sorry."

"That's OK. Not your fault." We felt Jane's grip tighten.

"Well it's not Jane's either," Mint pointed out. "It's probably more my fault than hers. I er... bring out the worst in certain people."

"Like Priests?"

"Especially Priests."

"So. This is clean."

"Yes. One of the things about hospitals: hygiene."

"Good drugs too."

"Another point well made," agreed Mint.

"Do we have to move now. Get up?" Which made us think. "Are they coming for us?"

"No, you're safe."

"We're safe," whispered Jane.

"You're here legally now. An employee of The Linux family. As is Jane. They're not happy about it. But money buys everything around here."

"Everything?" we asked. "What does it cost to get into Topland legally?"

"Curious question. Um, a few thousand dollars or equivalent in gold maybe. More for you maybe, because you're... special I suppose. You would also need to have a useful trade, or show you had money to survive. Can't have tramps here you see."

"Farmers, are they needed?"

"Farmers? Possibly but they would need land and all the land is owned, so that's a bit difficult. Why do you ask?"

"We saw land that looked unused. In need of farmers, we thought."

"Yes I suppose you did. But just because the land is unused doesn't mean that the owner would want to sell it, or even lease it."

"Why not? Isn't that a waste?"

"Maybe it is but it's their land and we can't force them to do anything with it. Why do you ask? Do you want to become a farmer?"

"No, but, no, we just saw so much empty land."

"How do you feel?" asked Jane.

"Kind of stoned to be honest. So how long have you been here then?"

"A few days, same as you," answered Jane. "It's OK, nice actually. I've got a room at the Linux house in Aviemore. But I've been here mainly. The doctors were working on you for a couple of days. Then you've been sleeping and they thought you would wake up today. Linux has been paying for all your treatment."

"We thought it was free? That's what the oldies used to say."

"It was, before. But that's all gone now. You have to pay for it. Not cheap. Not that I mind paying for it." Mint added hastily.

"That's very kind of you," we said, "and kind of you to help Jane, too."

"Well, you know, we girls have to stick together." Mint Linux said. "Look, actually, I have to go now. Stuff to sort out. The doctors say you should be up and about in a couple of days. Maybe the other Felix will wake up. I'll be back tomorrow, or maybe later tonight. Tonight. I'll come back tonight. Maybe we could have a chat then?"

"OK," we said as Linux turned to leave, "and thank you."

"You don't have to thank me Felix, or should I say Felice? I'm not sure."

"We don't know what's going on, or what you've had to do for us to be here. But without you we'd be..." We were looking at Jane. "We'd both be dead at that farm house."

"Possibly. Probably. Look, we'll talk tonight. Promise."

"OK," we nodded and watched Linux leave.

"She's so full of herself," said Jane after a minute's silence.

"What? No. What? Really?" Jane could switch moods with astonishing speed. "We were thinking Linux was pretty cool."

"Oh you like her. That was quick."

"What? No." We didn't know what to say. "We've just woken up. Is there any water?"

Jane got some water out of a tap in the corner of the room.

"Running water." We pointed out more to ourselves really but hoped it would change the conversation.

"Ooh, exciting."

"It is for us."

"I know. I'm so sorry I shot you."

"It doesn't matter. We're alive."

"You might not be. You were kind of dead as well you know. And I did it."

"You didn't mean to, it was the Priest, pushing you."

"Doesn't make me feel any better."

"Well it should. It wasn't your fault. Oh, that hurts." Whatever drugs they were, they were wearing off a bit now, and we could feel some major pain in our head.

"I think if I press this you get a bit more." Jane pressed a button by the bed and almost immediately we felt rather nice again.

"We just have to press the button?" We asked eyeing it up. Hospitals were something else.

"I don't think you should do it too much."

"OK, we'll try not to," we said trying not to sound too eager. "What are you doing today?"

"Well it's a Sunday so I'm not working. Yes I have a job. I'm part of Mint's entourage. I follow her about and get stuff mainly. Not important stuff, that's Enid's job. Enid is Mint's secretary. She was there at the farmhouse."

Which reminded us.

"What happened to the man we shot with the green gun thing?"

"Oh that was for his heart. You saved his life! Well, you also nearly killed him but you saved him too with the injection. So. Woo you!" Jane made a pumping motion with fist. We did try to move ours but it wasn't really feeling like it. So we just glared at it for a bit. It still didn't move, just sort of lay there throbbing in time with our heart. Oh, seemed we were off again. Nice.

We looked up. Jane was gone and replaced by the soldier, the one in charge of the pursuit team.

"Hello," we said.

"Commander Colme, Trident," the soldier said as if it meant something.

"OK."

"Why are you here?"

"We were shot in the head." We wanted to point to our head but the arm still wasn't moving.

"I don't mean the hospital I mean in Topland."

"Oh, oh. Bill and Ben wanted us to."

"Bill and Ben?" Commander Colne asked, eyeing something above our head. We shifted a bit to get a better look and saw a plastic sachet of liquid above us. It had a pipe that went down, down, down to a button and then on and round a bit and into our arm, which throbbed.

The soldier sighed.

"So Bill and Ben sent you to Lady Linux?"

"Yes."

"Why? What was the message?"

"Message? There was no message. Ben told us, not the other us, us us to make sure Felix got it to Linux if we found it."

"So what was it you were to deliver?"

"Wings."

"What?" The Commander sounded even more exasperated. We tried to help.

"Wings, like a bird, or a plane more like, though actually we suppose more like a parachute. Parawings that's the word."

"Parawings?"

"Yes that's the one." That was a relief, the Commander might be smartly dressed but up top seemed a little sparse, space to let as it were. Which reminded us of the signs we would bring up from the deep sometimes. Slow Children Playing was a favourite that hung on a tree at home.

"Hello!" the Commander was actually waving at us now.

"Hello," we said. "We have met you know. A few times actually, we listened to you down by the gate."

So we told the soldier about the scarey time when we had hid behind the wall for the whole night. That got interesting. Spies in the house of love.

"Felix!" it was Jane with a cup of tea, standing in the doorway, looking very angry and pointing at the soldier. "You shouldn't be here. You're not allowed to speak to her. Out. Or I'll call the Linux family."

Commander Colme smiled at Jane.

"I'm going. Got all I need for the moment. Thank you Felix. You've been very helpful."

"Thanks," we said. We tried to smile but as we weren't really in control of much we were not sure what it looked like.

"Why are you smiling?" asked Jane crossly after Colme had left.

"Oh good," we said, and Jane gave us a look.

"Have you pressed that button again?"

We thought about it for a bit.

"Not sure. Do you think we need to? Probably hey?" Our hand started a finger crawl across the blanket towards the button. But Jane crossed the room with amazing speed and pulled it away, tucking it up high above our head where we couldn't even see it.

"That's just mean."

"What did you tell Commander Colme?"

"Nothing. Just about the parawing."

"You didn't!" Jane sounded shocked.

"Leicester kept telling us off for keeping it a secret and it's boring keeping secrets, you lose friends that way."

"Well, you'll lose Linux as a friend if you don't tell her exactly what you told Commander Colme."

"'Course we'll tell Mint." we said, hurt that Jane thought we wouldn't tell our new friend.

Jane was on a phone, nattering away, we said this, we said that, parawings and soldiers and stuff.

"Right, she's coming in," said Jane

"But Mint was only here a few minutes ago."

"That was this morning numbnuts. Look at the clock. It's nearly five."

"Oh. Blimey," that was a shocker Doc, as Bill and Ben would say. This juice gave you wings. We looked up at the sachet of liquid. It was looking pretty flat now. It didn't look as innocent and inviting either.

"That's some pretty crazy shit there."

"Well it's interesting isn't it." We turned our head. It was Mint Ubu Linux! "Now Tasmania and half of Australia is underwater Afghanistan has been allowed to go back to being the world's medical opiate supplier. All the Afghans want to do now is farm, send their kids to university in Kabul and watch reruns of Modern Family."

"Tasmania's a real place?" We asked Jane. "We always thought it was made up. Like Moldovia."

"Oh very real, grew over half the worlds opioids until recently." Explained Mint.

"Opioids?" We asked. Linux nodded towards the sachet above us.

"What's in the drugs that's been making you talk too much."

"Ah, sorry about that. Not Jane's fault." We said quickly. "Jane wasn't here."

We heard Jane sigh and swear quietly.

"It's OK," said Mint. "Let's just hear what you've got to say, hey? Tell us about the parawing."

"Oh, OK. Well, what do you want to know? Oh, well yes, Ben said that it was important. That we'd found a special parawing and that we should somehow get it to you."

We were sort of piecing it all together in our heads as we spoke. It was difficult because things kept slipping away, and if you chased after them then they would run off a bit further, maybe into a different room and then you'd go into that room but it was like full of amazing things that you would want to take a look at or a poke around and then you would remember about the thing and realise it wasn't in that room either but that there were loads of doors that you could go through. "What? Stop flicking."

Jane was flicking fingers right in front of our eyes in a really annoying way.

"What? We were just talking about the parawing."

"That was about ten minutes ago."

"Oh, sorry. Anyway, where were we? The parawing, we found it and we flew in it."

"What?" said Jane and Mint together.

"Well we had to, we were being chased and Leicester was hurt so we flew. Underwater."

"Underwater?" repeated Mint possibly sounding a bit skeptical.

"Trumps and the Mugs were stealing our stuff so the only way to escape was to open up the wing and fly, well glide might be a better way to put it. We glid? glided? glode?"

"I think any of those will do. Just pick one and we'll go with that," said Mint.

"We're going with glode. We glode up and down underwater."

"She can hold her breath forever," interrupted Jane.

"I'm sure she can," said Mint, "moving along."

"So, anyway. We escaped. And we sort of tried to get it to Bill and Ben but Trumps attacked the Ridgeway. Did you say you talk to Bill and Ben."

"Yes. Not often, but we've had dealings and they tell me what's happening out there."

"Are they OK? Did Trumps get stopped?"

"I've not spoken to them for a few days," answered Mint.

"But they're OK?"

"I really don't know."

"But when did you last speak to them?" we asked.

"Exactly?" Mint seemed to be stalling and we were not sure why. "Maybe two weeks ago or so. Probably just before you set off."

"So, the night of the attack. When Trumps attacked. They called you when they thought we had maybe found something?"

"Yes that's what they were telling me. Telling me that they had told you to get whatever you had found to me."

"And you've not spoken to them since?" we asked.

"No."

"Have you tried?"

"Yes."

"And they don't answer?"

"No."

"And they do normally answer."

"Yes. Look Felix. I didn't want to worry you. There could be any number of reasons why they can't answer. Maybe stuff got damaged, maybe they've had to move."

"Maybe they're all dead."

"Not necessarily," said Mint. "Not necessarily at all. It's very unlikely they're all dead. Things break, maybe the radio broke. Especially out there. You know that."

"We know what out there is like. We know it better than you. We know what Trumps is. He's a murderer, a psycho, a cruel vindictive, horrible horrible person. He could easily have killed everyone. All for that freaking parawing we found."

Jane and Mint were silent.

"We don't know where the parawing is." We said finally. "Leicester has it. Or had it anyway."

"What happened?" asked Jane.

"We just fell out over it. Leicester went kind of crazy about it. Wanting to fly, you know, in the air flying, gliding. And then all sorts of weird freak'n stuff happened on the way here. We kind of got separated. We don't know where Leicester is."

"But Leicester was supposed to come here?" Asked Mint.

"To Topland? Yes. Leicester was heading here too."

"So she, Leicester, she's a she right? Could be here, somewhere? She could be OK." Jane asked.

"Yeah," we said, "Leicester could be OK. Bill and Ben could be. The folks at Treetops could be. But.. Do you mind if we sleep now. We're kind of tired."

"Sure. Yes. Get some rest. We'll speak later. Tomorrow or something. The Doctor said you could be OK to get up tomorrow." Said Mint. "You get some sleep. It'll seem better in the morning."

Jane lent over and kissed us on the head.

"Night-night."

"Night."

Chapter 4  
We live in Forgotness

"The Lord God had not caused it to rain upon the earth, and there was not a man to till the ground. But there went up a mist from the earth, and watered the whole face of the ground."

"How can people not believe in God after hearing that? It beggars belief. From Genesis to Revelations, God's word is truth."

Before The Flood.

"Before the Flood we were losing the hearts and minds of the people.

"Now is our chance to win them back and the children are the future. Win them and you win the generations to come.

"That's why we have to defeat Linux. She has sent our her witches, The Sisters Of Mersey to show the children the Dark Side. With their music, with their words, with their actions, with their clothes, with their behaviour. As if they are free to chose.

"We must remove choice. You must remove choice, remove temptation. You must stop Linux.

"There are so few children in Scotland now. Its population is either radiation-neutered or just too old. The Sisters of Mersey have been seen by nearly all the children in the country.

"Despite our best efforts to extend copyright in perpetuity, to place all copyright from dead artists in the hands of the crown and rigorous enforcement of the Thicke Law, new art is being created again. We cannot let this happen. There must be no new art. No new thoughts. Nothing new except from those we allow.

"You are going to Scotland and this is your mission."

And so far I had failed.

I had followed the Sisters of Mersey on their second tour round Scotland. They had played Tomatin, Carrbridge, Tomintoul and Lumsden, every stop down the A9, west to Braemar, east to Altnafaedh and Tyndrum, then all the way down the A702 to the M74, West Linton, Biggar and Abington and then by ferry to the Pennines.

Over a hundred dates, thousands of children, maybe even ten thousand young souls touched by the devil. Nearly all the children in the land.

And every step of the way I had fought them, measuring decibels, checking performance payments and copyright, venue licences and age limits, talking to children in the queues outside, handing out leaflets and setting up prayer meetings, contacting parent groups and schools.

But the apathy and carelessness, the ignorance and collective guilt of what they had allowed to happen in their name, the cleansing fire that came after the flood, the flames that freed us all to start again, start afresh, to get it right this time, had crippled them.

So many felt guilt not joy. But those that died to save us were in heaven witnessing God's greatness, not left here in the dark, fighting the devil. Why could they not see that? This world did not matter, it was the next that counted.

So when I had seen the witches suck Jane into their coven I had snapped.

Scientists claim cells split and multiply. Well I could not stand and watch this cell multiply.

It was time to stop beating myself up about this.

I put the whip down. The bell of Aviemore Cathedral was tolling across the Close. I dressed and went down to join the brethren in morning prayer.

I had kept a low profile since my arrival in Aviemore; not wanting to alert Linux or Jane to my presence.

Linux was based up near the Original Highlands Hotel, disturbingly close to the New Inverness University buildings and the cream of Scotland's private education system. Poisoning the well at the very source. Linux offered the best jobs for the best money and with that came unheard of freedom in the workforce, almost no hierachy, no fixed times, no set offices or even allocated desks, it was a free-for-all with enforced holidays, and time to think new thoughts.

It was the cancer of freedom.

But there I had found Jane, reunited with the Sisters of Mersey and even making new friends in the Linux camp.

Within days there had been a music show in a small pub, the New Old Bridge Inn, and hidden at the back I had witnessed Jane screaming her head off to songs she and the audience had no right to hear.

I had asked for a meeting with Prince John and finally today I was to see him. I had ten minutes at eleven forty this morning and I intended to put my case and make him see the dangers that surrounded us.

I had also been authorised to make hints, unofficially, that if things did not go well that there would be repercussions.

If he had not heard about recent events in the Wetlands then I was to remind him who his friends were and who were his enemies.

The Scientologists had been making bold advances out of Wales of late and though there was, officially, peace between the two Americas, that did not stop their war breaking out elsewhere under different banners. Topland could get crushed between them.

Breakfast followed, listening to the Bible quietly as we ate, then it was back to my room for final preparations.

At ten o'clock I drove out of the cathedral close and headed across Aviemore and south to Prince John's Royal Palace at Loch an Eilein Castle.

Supposedly it had taken a lot to explain to the Prince that though the surrounding country may have suffered from rising water, Loch an Eilein Castle would not suffer the same fate for a very long time.

In fact, the water level of the loch had been lowered to reinstall the causeway out to the castle for swifter access.

I parked on the mainland, showed my pass to the Royal Guard and was escorted across the new causeway by a footman. I waited in the inner Gatehouse before being met by a Royal Secretary who took me to a waiting room beside the Hall.

There were three main structures the Secretary told me: the Lodging for the Royal Apartments and family, the Hall for the Government Ministers and the Tower. He did not go into detail about the tower but everyone knew that they were the Prince's private rooms where even his wife and family were not allowed.

The Ministers met once a week, normally on a Tuesday (or Royal Monday as the Prince liked to call it) and sometimes again on a Friday. Today was a Thursday and it was hoped that the Prince was within 30 minutes of being on time.

I looked round the waiting room.

As head of a country there were few signs of godliness and plenty signs of temptation and debauchery. On the wall were paintings of historical miscreants, a selection of weapons, heads of various dead animals and some photographs of the Prince with important people. I suspected some were fake.

My impatience was building again and I was considering an offer of war as my one and only option when the door opened and the Private Secretary reappeared.

"The Prince will see you now." He stepped back to allow me to pass into the Hall and closed the door when I was inside.

"Excuse me," I started, there was no one else was in the room. I turned round, but the secretary had gone,.

There was a large dining room table with twenty chairs round it. At one end of the table was, presumably, the Prince's chair: it was larger, higher than the others and was gold with curling lions at the end of each arm.

I sat down at the table to wait.

About thirty minutes later another door opened and in walked a group of men including the Prince. I stood up. He smiled and came towards me holding out his hands to shake mine, his other hand coming down on top. It was the classic sincere handshake. One I used myself when necessary.

"Ah, Father?" he started.

"Jacob, Your Highness," I completed for him.

"Yes, yes, do sit down." Prince John sat in his gold chair and I returned to mine, about half way down the table. The other men all stood behind the Prince. "What was it you would like to discuss?"

"Yes, Your Highness and thank you for granting me an audience," I began. "I, or rather, we in the Church, have grown increasingly worried by the moral and artistic freedoms the Linux family have and are using to promote its views to the youth of Scotland.

"In particular," I continued, "they have been funding a tour by a group of musicians, and I use the term lightly, calling themselves the Sisters of Mersey which is in itself a mockery of the Church."

"How so?" asked the Prince.

"Well, it doesn't matter, that's not really why I want to speak to you."

"If I may interrupt," said one of the men standing behind the Prince. "Weren't the Sisters of Mercy a nunnery that abused children? I seem to remember that they paid out millions of pounds in damages."

"You have a very good memory, Sir," I replied. "That may be the case but that was many decades ago, before the flood."

"Yes, quite, though what a payout!" Exclaimed the Prince. "Wish I had been abused and got that."

The men standing behind laughed lightly.

"But you don't want to talk about that?" Asked the Prince.

"No, your Highness. I was hoping to find some way of restricting the tour by these musicians. I feel they are unsettling the youth of Scotland and leading them astray. If you could look at these pictures."

I passed a selection of photographs I had taken with my phone, of children dressed in black, some wearing ghostly makeup, dancing, kissing, drinking alcohol, falling on the floor, smoking. The Prince looked at them briefly and passed them to his advisors.

"And much of the music they play is banned?"

"How do you know a song is banned?" Asked another of the advisors. "If it has been banned?"

"Good question!" exclaimed the Prince. "How do you know they are banned if they are banned? Do you listen to banned music?"

"I don't listen to banned music Your Highness, no, it's more that they must be banned because their lyrics are not of the sort that you would have left unbanned."

"We see. Actually," he continued, "we were thinking of unbanning some more music by dead artists. It's proving very lucrative for me, us, the Crown, to own these copyrights. Internationally as well. Very lucrative."

"More money for schools and things," an advisor added.

The Prince turned round to eye the advisor.

"Yes quite," he said, turning back to me. "Linux is of course a very valued partner in our Government. Keeps the country connected and powered as we are sure you are aware but," he said as he saw me open my mouth to speak. "We cannot have the youths' minds, as you say, poisoned by music they are not allowed to listen to nor able to pay for. We can't have that."

"All music must be paid for," said an advisor.

"Ah, now, we must stop you there, Boris. That does sound like something we would say. And as Father, um Jacob here understands, we have now approved the copyright laws of the Americas, including the Thicke law, so we must stop you there and point out that as something that sounds like we would say, we must claim copyright on that. So, er, please don't say it, and while you er... think about that, can you write it down as something we said, please, there's a good chap.

"So you see, Father Jacob, we intend to enforce these new laws, no longer merely civil offences but actual Statute Law, to the full and to the farthest corner of the land and if, as you say, there are musical groups, whether connected in some way to Linux or not, that are breaking these laws then there shall be criminal proceedings and fines levied.

"Well, we think that just about wraps this up don't you think Father?" went on the Prince rubbing his hands.

"There was another matter You Highness, concerning possible mutants, Wetlanders, here in the capital, one even under the protection of the Linux family." I tried.

"Goodness, anyone would think you had it in for Linux!" laughed the Prince. "We are sure they have all the necessary paperwork for a Wetlander. Though if it's really an honest to God mutant, sorry Father, we should say they should bring it here for us to have a look at. Haven't seen a good mutant in long while. Have words will you David?"

An different advisor nodded eagerly.

"Right," Prince John stood up. I stood too. He came round and shook my hand again, again, in the sincere manner.

"Yes, well, we thank you for your input, we take this sort of thing very seriously and we will let you know how we decide on the matter, forthwith. Thank you."

"Yes, Your Highness," I bowed. Though in my head I was imagining breaking the golden chair over his head and gauging his eyes out with my bare hands.

But the moment passed and I was alone again in the room.

The door behind me opened and the secretary came in and ushered me out. Minutes later I was back across the causeway and heading back to Aviemore.

"Give me strength Lord," I muttered, though the Prince had been right about one thing: the newly imported copyright laws could be the way to stop the Sisters of Mersey. Fines wouldn't stop Linux perhaps repeat offences could cause some problems.

Recording music on my phone had not worked well at all. The resulting recordings had proved very poor, a roar of distortion and screaming. Nothing could be made out at all.

So, better equipment and a decent lawyer could be the answer. But it would be a slow, drawn-out affair taking years with only the lawyers benefiting.

I needed something to take down Linux now and forever. A motoring accident would sort out the Sisters of Mersey easily enough, though I wouldn't be relying on outside help this time.

No, I thought, I needed something on Linux.

And that something was the mutant at the farmhouse, the one who had cowered under the table and yet killed four grown men in seconds.

I needed to find out what it was doing here.

The mutant, I knew, was at the hospital. I would start there.

I turned away from the Cathedral and crossed Aviemore to the New Raigmore hospital. I parked and went in.

It was very modern. Supposedly they were capable of doing things almost to a pre-flood level. I had to stop myself from marching up to reception and demanding to know where the mutant was kept, but realised that that would create unwanted attention so I took a gamble that the Linux family would keep private rooms on the top floor and headed for the lift.

I got out of the lift and found myself facing a smaller reception desk. Luckily there was no one there to stop me so I took another roll of the dice and turned right, down the passageway. I wanted to walk slow enough to get an idea of who was in each room but fast enough so as not to look suspicious; not to look like I didn't know where I was going.

Then I noticed that there was voices coming from the last door at the end. Of course they would give a murderous mutant the corner room, the best room, on the top floor. Was there no end to the ways in which Linux would flaunt their contrary view of the world? I mean I say 'their' but the father, old Geoffrey Linux, not that Linux was even their real name, that was Hay, but Geoffrey Linux wasn't interested in any of this, he was just an electrician who happened to be reconnecting an entire country, and he had no control over that barren old hag daughter of his, Mint Ubu Linux. Ridiculous name.

In better days we would have dipped her until she was taken by the Lord.

I moved quietly to the door and angled a look in. Saints be praised, it was mutant and Jane!

They had stopped talking. It looked like the mutant had fallen asleep. Jane looked frustrated, sitting in a chair holding the mutant's hand and gazing into its face.

Then she stood up. It looked like she was going to leave the room. I glanced around and saw that there was only one thing I could do: I opened the door of the previous room and went inside.

I heard Jane walk past. I left it a few seconds until I heard the lift doors open and close.

"Am I dying?" asked a voice behind me.

I froze. Maybe they were sleep talking?

"Father?" asked the voice, "is it time?"

I straightened up and turned round. There was an old woman lying in the bed. At tube went up her nose, another went into her arm. A machine beeped contentedly close to her bed. It really was a very state-of-the-art hospital, on this floor at least. We hardly had anything at The Monasteries, mainly second or third-hand stuff out of the Empire.

"We are all called to the arms of the Lord." I said. I picked up the notes hanging on the end of her bed. Cancer. Brought on from radiation.

She nodded.

"I know. I've been expecting it. But I had thought the doctors would have said something first. To me, you know."

"They have not said anything specific to me... Susan. I just wanted to see everybody on this floor, wanted to offer my spiritual counselling to those who feel it would help."

I stopped. This was not what I had come for. But it was what I was here for. It was a reminder, from the boss.

"I would Father. But there may be others in more need?"

"Susan, I am here for you now. Can I ask, do you feel ready?"

She looked at me and then looked out the window.

"It's punishment for what we did. I'm not old. I look old, but I'm only sixty."

I sat down beside her.

"You don't look a day over fifty-five." I japed. She turned her pain-lined face to me.

"You do."

I nodded.

"These have not been easy years have they?"

Susan snorted and coughed.

"Do you have family?" I asked. The box had been blank in the notes.

"I had a husband, he died long ago, drunk driving, after the wall went up. We had a son. Beautiful boy. Probably Zika, but so kind. Just, you know, they live in the now. He, well, he forgot us. He's married, to a naval officer, very high up. They have a family. But they don't see us. She's Trident you see. And, well, I haven't always been kind to her."

"We all say things we regret to the ones we love. God sees and understands."

"I'm not sure I believe in God though. Do you?" She looked at me. "Sorry, that's a silly question."

"No," I replied. "It's the best question. I believe. But in dark times it is hard to keep the faith."

"But it just seems to not make much sense Father. What to believe, what not to believe. We're told there's no choice by people who chose which religion they wanted, or even which variation of the religion they wanted."

"We have to be firm in what we believe otherwise our life is wasted. Who wants to admit to wasting their life." I said, annoyed with myself for admitting it, in words, outloud.

"Sometimes I think the only way it makes sense is if we are some sort of cosmic butterfly. This life here on earth is our caterpillar stage. Then we die and get cocooned, and then our spirit breaks free and flies towards the light of the next stage of our life. And if we choose wrong or stray from the path of good, then we miss the light and steer across space at the wrong angle. You can see others in the beam of light but you are heading away into darkness."

"And you think you are headed to darkness?" I asked.

"We allowed things to happen. We put up the walls, we... we let the submarines make our survival easier. And then we tried to forget. We live in a land trying to forget the past. We live in Forgotness."

"You are forgetting that God forgives those who believe. I can hear your confession if you like."

"You've heard my confession Father."

"And are you sorry for what you have done?"

"Of course I am."

"Then I can forgive you."

"No Father. You really can't." She turned away from me and looked out the window again. "But I can try to forget again."

I sat there for a minute looking at my hands. Then stood up and headed for the door.

"God Bless you Susan." I said and left the room.

You win some, you lose some.

The passageway was empty. I peered into the mutant's room. He was still alone, asleep, in bed. I tried the door opposite, it was unlocked and empty so I went inside.

It was curious how quickly one feels dirty in hospitals. Luckily these top floor rooms were ensuite so I went in and washed up.

When I came out I could hear voices from the room opposite. I opened the door as quietly as I could.

It was the Officer, Colme? She was talking to the mutant about what sounded like children's television. So I must have missed something. Was it code? How could they have code, unless they were working together? Which would have explained why the soldiers hadn't shot the mutant when they had the chance. Though of course the mutant had been shot. But by Jane. The mutant was on drugs though... I listened some more.

They talked about a message, a message for Linux, about wings. Then Colme wanted to know if the mutant was a spy.

I heard footsteps and closed the door to a tiny slither. It was Jane. She was cross and demanded that Colme leave. The officer left.

Jane wanted to know what the Mutant had told Colme. Again talk of the wings. Then she was on the phone to Mint Linux who was going to come in again.

Then the mutant was asleep again.

I considered taking Jane now. But I realised that I could take her anytime. The bigger target now was Linux and perhaps if I stayed hidden I would get to understand what was really going on here.

Maybe she would say something so big, so terrible that I could finish her. I closed the door and realised I was smiling. I went back to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. It was a proper smile. I hadn't seen that in, I wasn't sure, years? Probably a concert. Back in my youth, back before... and the smile was gone. Before the Flood.

I knelt down and prayed. The hard floor, despite being rubberised, made my knees ache after a couple of hours. But it cleared my brain, stopped it from thinking in terms of success and failure, of futures. What I had to concentrate on was the now. Fight the demon.

And there she was. I could hear the old witch right now. I hadn't heard her enter but now she was there. I opened the door.

Lady Linux as she liked to call herself, Mint Ubu Linux, dressed in all her finery, trying to get sense out of the drug-addled mutant boy. Though she seemed to be saying the mutant was a girl. Was it some mutant abomination? An hermaphrodite!

There was more talk of old tech, found by the mutants and to be delivered to Linux but lost somewhere along the way. So this was what she was after.

It sounded like there was a war south of the wall. I had heard of Trumps and his gang of marauders before. But I hadn't realised that they were so numerous. Still it was of no consequence. I was getting to the heart of the matter.

In a minute the mutant was asleep again and Linux was gone. I waited until Jane was looking the other way and slipped out of the room and out of the hospital.

I sat in the car mulling it over. Linux had weak points: she was protecting a murderous mutant, she had lost some important flying technology, there were other mutants in Topland that she was looking for, or had lost, and the military suspected the mutants were spies.

It would seem that Linux thought this mutant, Felix, was important and could maybe help find the technology. The only way to thwart that was to keep watch on the mutant. And if that lead to more abuses of the law by Linux then so much the better.

The hospital was not going let this Felix out any time soon, not to tonight anyway. I would come back tomorrow and see how he/she was recovering, and maybe get to hear some more information.

It was good to have a plan and see a route forward. It was almost calming.

Which made me think of Susan. Why did people think I wanted to hear their crazy notions of religion and the afterlife? Was it not obvious that I had my own, ones that I believed everyone should know and trust as the absolute and final truth.

Again freedom of thought and expression had raised its ugly, ugly head. This Hydra that I had sworn to kill.

I got back to the Cathedral in time for a cup of tea, an evening service, supper, evening prayers and bed.

The day had turned out differently than I had hoped for but still productive. But then God was an undeniable force.

For the second time that day I had a smile on my face as I lay my head down on the thin pillow.

Chapter 5  
J-Pop

The Reveille sounded.

That was the downside of free accommodation on a military base. In this case, the Royal Barracks at Rothiemurchus by Loch an Eilein. Home of the Guards Regiment, the royal regiment that protected Prince John.

The plus side was that this was the best regimental barracks in the country. Even the beds were better.

The Reveille was still painful though.

A couple of days after the episode at Malham, where the mutant had been shot by the girl and Linux had taken the two of them away, I had a visit from Captain Cronin.

He agreed that there was nothing I could have done: Linux's paperwork would be found to be correct and there was no law against shooting Wetters, even by commoners.

The conversation had continued.

"I think," Captain Cronin had said, "that there is no point avoiding the obvious here. That Linux can probably see and hear everything we do but we can't get into their systems. They have their own private network, so tracking them is close to impossible, even turning on their cameras and microphones is a lot harder than it should be. All in all it seems they know our movements and thoughts long before we know theirs."

"So they know everything and we know nothing?" I asked.

"Sort of. This has always been the case to be honest. We've never stopped a single attack before it happened or saved a single life. But once we know who we're after, after an event, then we can start to piece together the history. For instance: we know Linux has been in contact with Wetters because she said so. There are not many working phones in the wetlands, so we can get a rough idea who she could be talking to, and it looks probabke that it was some traders in old tech right down south, old Berkshire way," explained Cronin. "Things have been getting pretty hot down there. The Evangelists are expanding up the Cotswolds. There's a gang of marauders who attacked a Wetland enclave in the South. It sounds like they're looking for something or someone.

"Then a week later we get a break in and suddenly Linux is waving a letter signed by the Prince in front of a Wetter claiming it's her messenger."

"So, something is happening down South and Linux is connected? And her mutant may have brought in some old tech?"

"Technology is what Linux does. It stands to reason that she would be interested."

"Is there anything illegal with that?"

"Well, most of the time no. No one cares about an old phone or a CD. But if it were something big, something new, then there could be a problem. Or, more to the point a solution."

"Which is?"

"Treasure Trove used to mean treasure found that was 300 years or older."

"OK."

"And there's a lot of treasure in the lands of the old UK."

"OK."

"So the Prince changed the law. It's not 300 years now it's 3 years. So anything found is his, or the Crown's anyway."

"Ah," I said.

"Yes, ah," agreed Cronin.

"So, if this tech gets into Linux's possession and we could prove that it was found, then Linux would be breaking the law?"

"Yes. Not a particularly big law, but a law all the same. And then we could get a warrant and take a poke round the Linux offices and uncover bigger crimes maybe."

"At least put a spanner in her works."

"Exactly," said Cronin. "That's the general idea."

"So you're still after Linux?" I asked, Cronin nodded. "And you still want to find out about this mutant."

"That's right, and the mutant is currently in the New Raigmore here in Aviemore. If you can pass on anything you find out that might be incriminating against Linux then that would be most helpful."

"Well, I'll see what I can do."

But I hadn't been able to do much since coming to Aviemore. We knew the mutant was unconcious at the hospital and was regularly visited by Jane Dray. We also knew that the mutant was having a lot of operations. But I hadn't made any more progress than that.

I had tried to find out about the other Wetters who had got in at Hulland Gate, but nearly a week had gone by now without a sighting.

I was having a mid-morning coffee when my phone rang. It was Cronin again, he was back at the Scottish Recording Centre.

"Your friend Jane Dray has just done a search on her phone for brain damage." He said.

"Well we knew that," I said. "I'm not even sure why they are even keeping him alive."

"Ah, well it wasn't just brain damage. It was also 'how to stop someone talking gibberish when on drugs'."

"Oh, so he's talking?"

"Yes, seems so. Maybe it would be worth popping round and seeing if you can get anything out of him if he's being so talkative."

"Yes, thanks Captain, I think I shall."

So I took an old military Land Rover and drove into Aviemore. Captain Cronin had told me the mutant was on the top floor so I made my way up there. It's always handy that no one questions someone in uniform. I asked at the top floor reception where the Linux room was and was pointed to the end of the passageway. I went into the room.

The mutant was lying there, his eyes half open.

"Hello," he said.

"Hello, Felix." It said that was his name on the chart. Though it also said he was female. Which... which actually could be right, now I looked at her again. It's amazing how you see things can change from one second to the next.

"Hello Felix," I said again. I already liked her a bit. Looking back, the murder of the four men was easier to understand. It was self-defence. And more impressive: four fully-grown men. Mind you why was that impressive? I could take four fully-grown men and I'm over fifty. Still, it put a smile on my face.

"I'm Commander Colme. From Trident. How are you feeling?"

"Nice," said Felix in a muffled way.

"Can I ask why you're here?"

"We were shot in the head." She replied with a smile.

"I don't mean the hospital, I mean in Scotland."

"Oh," she snswered. "Bill and Ben wanted us to."

Then things wondered off-piste for a bit until we arrived, abruptly, at parawings.

"Parawings?" I asked. It brought to mind the gyrokites some U-Boats used in the Second World War. But I couldn't believe she meant them.

"Yes, that's the one." Felix said happily and dozed off.

"Hello!" I waved my hand in front of her face to try and get her to wake up. She was quite a pretty thing really.

"Hello," she said waking up suddenly. "We have met you know. A few times actually, we listened to you down by the gate."

I still wasn't getting the hang of her use of the word 'we' meaning her single self. It was a joke from around the Gates sometimes that Wetters used the plural all the time. But it was hard to make sense of it. But actually this was interesting, if off topic.

"You were behind the wall the whole time?" I asked.

"We were. It was very frightening but you never looked. Well, until that soldier looked. They got a fright!"

"You frightened him?" I knew Jones had been hiding something.

"Didn't mean to. We just stood up and they backed off and fell over."

"So you didn't attack him?"

"Why would we do that?"

"Because you're a spy."

"No, we're just trying to help."

"Help who?"

"Help us," she replied. I didn't follow.

"Felix!" The girl Jane was standing in the doorway with with a cup of tea. "You shouldn't be here. You're not allowed to speak to her. Out! Or I'll call the Linux family."

"I'm going," I said, "got all I need for the moment. Thank you Felix. You've been very helpful. Take care now."

I left the room. 'Take care now' might have sounded threatening. I hadn't meant it like that.

I was in a hurry now. But to where? I wanted to speak to Captain Cronin but phones sounded very insecure. The last person I wanted hearing our conversation was Linux. And I certainly didn't want to have to drive back down to Tissington just to pass on the message.

I drove back to the barracks and went directly to Signals and spoke to the sergeant there.

"Do we have any private communication lines with Captain Cronin down at Tissington."

"Yes Ma'am," said the Sergeant. "We have direct lines to all our regional headquarters."

"I was wondering whether you had any other method?"

"We can send a motorbike if you can get it signed off Ma'am," he said. "It will take about 24 hours to get there, it's three ferries at least."

"Nothing else?" I asked.

A private, who had been sitting behind the desk manning the phones, interrupted.

"There are the pigeons, Ma'am," he said, the sergeant huffed at that.

"Really?" I asked. There had been a time soon after the flood and the subsequent electro-magnetic pulse when pigeons had been used. Before the Linux family was able to start connecting us again. "We still have them?"

"Yes ma'am," said the sergeant grudgingly. "It's not official. Some of the retired men kept the system going from the home in New Chelsea."

"Can you take me to them please?" I asked. The sergeant almost shrugged his shoulders.

"Grey, take the Commander down to the old codgers. See if they can help." He saluted me and the private lead me out of Signals and across the barracks, through the family housing and up the hill to the regimental retirement home. New Chelsea it said on the sign. It was surprisingly comfortable inside. The nurse at the desk looked up.

"Hi Angie," said Grey, "Bob about?"

"He's up in the attic if you want him." The nurse answered and nodded at me, "Commander."

We took the lift up to the top floor and then up a ramsay ladder into the attic.

"Bob!" shouted Grey, "Bob, you up here?"

"Sergeant-Major Acton to you Grey!" Shouted an elderly voice from out of the gloom. A shutter was opened in the roof letting light in and revealed a wire coop with a one-way entrance though the slates. The wire coop was large, at least two meters square and explained the quite heavy smell of bird droppings and feathers. "Come over here, I'm expecting some messages."

And almost on cue a pigeon pushed it's way through the gate forcing a lever that shifted a pointer round a dial to the number one.

"And here we are, from Loggerheads." said the elderly sergeant-major. He read the note silently.

"Everything alright Bob?" asked Grey.

Sergeant-Major Acton looked up.

"No, not really. It's my nephew, out at Loggerheads. Dramatic cunt. Sorry Ma'am."

"Carry on Sargeant-Major." It wasn't the first time, wouldn't be the last, no point even thinking about it.

"Grey, get your arse down to the Major. It looks like Loggerheads has fallen. Fucking Evangelists are on the move at last."

"At last?" I asked. As Grey took the note from Acton and went back down the ladder. "You've been expecting them?"

"Oh yes Ma'am. They've been mopping up the Wetter islands between Loggerheads and Wales over the last few months. They took all the Cotswolds islands last week. It seems to be a race between the Two Amercas. We think they're heading here. The Major doesn't believe us."

"I must say I am impressed by your information. Intelligence only told me yesterday about the Cotswolds. Not that I'm confirming that by the way."

"Of course Ma'am. Can I ask why you're here?"

"I need to send a message south, to Tissington Gate. Captain Cronin."

"Ah, head Spook in the south. Used to know him. Want to write it on this." He gave me a tiny piece of paper. "Got a pigeon here, Snowball, she'll take it down."

"How soon?" I asked. "Sorry, I don't know much about pigeons."

"It's about four hundred miles. If Snowball is feeling lazy or the winds are against us, about eight hours, but probably six hours, could do it in four."

"So, this evening? That's brilliant." It was impressive.

I wrote my note: mutant confirms old tech is a parawing. Also, Clappers just took Loggerheads. Are we under attack? Colme.

I gave the note to the sergeant-major who rolled it up and attached it to Snowball's leg.

"Good luck old girl." He said as he launched the pigeon out the window.

"Thank you Sergeant-Major." I was about to leave when something else occurred to me.

"Have you heard anything about a flying Wetter? Or a parawing, paraglider, that sort of thing?" He looked at me for a moment.

"No, but I can ask around."

"Thank you Sergeant-Major. I'm staying in B Barracks for the moment if you hear anything."

"Will do. Ma'am." He added and saluted.

I left the New Chelsea building and headed back to Regimental Headquarters. I wondered if they were taking the message from Loggerheads seriously. I knew the place. It was the last outpost of Toplands to our south west. A good fifty miles from Wales. I had sailed past it many times. It was shocking if the Evangelicals really felt they could attack Topland soil. Afterall we had Trident submarines. Which admittedly couldn't move anymore but had people forgotten how powerful they were? Once.

When I got back to Headquarters I expected to see soldiers running in all directions as the military reacted to the news of the fall of Loggerheads. But it was just another summer afternoon, the sound of marching practise and a brass band playing in the distance, some large engine being given a bit of throttle somewhere. Nothing had changed.

I went to the front desk.

"Any news for me?" I asked the private.

"Nothing Ma'am."

I went to the mess and ordered afternoon tea and then stepped outside to try and phone my family but I couldn't get through, so I went back in and tried the office phone: no one answered. They were probably out playing in a river or walking to some distant lake. My husband was good like that. Always thinking of things to entertain the children. He lived in the now, without guilt of the past or fear of the future, which is exactly what a child needs, protection from reality while they slowly pickup the tools needed to deal with life. Something they didn't get from me.

Then I decided I needed exercise, to clear my head. I went up to my room, got changed and went for a run round Loch an Eilein and it's smaller, sister loch to the south, the improunceable Gamhna. I had heard someone say it was Gow-oo-na. The Gallic H is a tricky beast in this case an OO sound but I had heard it as a V sound and also completely ignored. I guess it's some kind of early French: the language of Asterix and Obelisk.

Such thoughts kept me going on the three mile or so run. When I returned I found an invitation at the front desk.

I was cordially invited to an informal dinner with His Royal Highness Prince John and assorted guests.

I had a couple of hours to get my uniform pressed and my shirt ironed, boots polished, hair cut. We all knew that informal applied to the Prince alone, we would have to dress up as best we could.

I wondered who'd be there. If I was invited then it would probably be a more military list. On the other hand the Prince was known for his playfulness so it really could be anyone, and quite possibly someone you really did not want to meet. It depended on who or what was taking his interest that night.

I would have preferred trousers but knew that the Prince would make a comment so I went for the skirt.

So I was on edge when my driver took me the short distance to the Loch an Eilein Castle causeway. I sent the driver away. I wanted to be neither early nor late and found that many other guests were of the same mind, joining me on the short walk across the Loch.

It was called Topland or Scotland depending on your origins. To the native Scot, if there ever was such a thing, it was Scotland. To the rich who had bought their way in before Trident, it was Topland. It could have reverted to Northern Britain but the Prince hadn't liked that.

My mind had wandered I noticed, as I marched over the cobbled causeway to the Castle. But I didn't want to catch anyone's eye and have to make polite conversation, so it was better to look lost in thought.

"Ah, Commander, how are you?" I recognised Mint Linux's voice and came out of my reverie. She looked as light and perfect as any woman my age can. I felt the jealousy rise and fade again. Good on her, why not? She had this uncanny ability to make you like her without seeming false, as if she really did mean well.

"Well, Lady Linux, thank you, and yourself?"

"Good thank you, busy as ever." We stopped at the gate while the Castle guard checked our invitations.

"Trying to take over the world? Free Market the solution to everything?" And yet instantly bitchy, what came over me at times like this?

"And you think I am like that?" Asked Mint as we walked through the gates.

"You are very successful: it's not normally a good sign."

"That's a bit damning," complained Mint, though she was laughing at the same. It made me more cross.

"Well, it's me who had to clean up the mess last time wasn't it."

"But I was just an electrician's daughter back then, teaching IT at Bell Baxter High," she answered.

"Well, I wonder when I will have to clean up your mess. If you'll excuse me." We had been lead into the hall of Loch an Eilein Castle. It was set for a dinner for about thirty people at one long table.

"I'll try not to let that happen," called Mint Linux after me. "Have a good evening Commander."

I wondered why I had suddenly got so angry. The hatred and fear of an office life that had lead me to the Navy, feminine jealousy, but I wasn't like that, or the guilt and shame I felt for my actions all those years ago that I pretended didn't exist?

There was a simple solution: don't think about it, drink.

I didn't really recognise many people apart from the top brass in the forces: General Drubbington, Admiral Rackson and Air Marshal Fiennes.

I tried to avoid them and ended up talking to some wives in a corner about holidays in England. Drinks were served, nibbles passed around and then without anyone really saying anything we all stopped talking and turned towards the inner door. It opened and in walked the Prince.

There was a man close to his ear ready to whisper any name that the Prince wasn't sure of, but he clearly didn't need the assistance.

"Commander Colme, good to see you," he said as he reached me.

"You Highness," I saluted. He walked by. And that was it. What the hell was I doing there? I considered having another drink but knew I should pace myself. It would be a long night.

I wondered if the women would be ushered out while the men had port?

It had happened to me before in officers' messes. Sometimes I thought I had nuked the wrong people.

You get an ear for people's tone of voice in these social gatherings, the voice rises, there's a tiny pause: I smiled; a longer build up, it's a joke: I laughed. I went into autopilot and rode the conversation.

Sometimes the flow would stop all together and I would have to quickly rewind what had just been said: a question, do I like my uniform? Oh no, not this one.

"At least I don't have to decide what to wear every day, and a man does my ironing," I paused, "but I avoid regulation underwear."

That got a laugh, it always did, but wait for it, wait for it, here it comes.

"I bet the men love that." As if! Why? But I smiled and laughed.

"Only my husband knows."

"Well we promise not to tell anyone."

"Thank you," I said. That was it, I couldn't take any more. At least with luck I would have a man on either side at dinner. Actually that was not preferable either as I looked over the bunch of cockwombles waiting for dinner. Four hours and it would all be over. But the temptation to speed up the process by getting so blootered that the next thing I would remember would be tomorrow morning was overwhelming.

"Steady Commander," it was Mint Ubu at my side again.

"Listening in to my thoughts now?" I turned to her. She smiled.

"I don't need technology for this one," she said. "You have very demonstrative features. I like that. It's honest."

A gong rang loudly and we were ushered to our seats. I was sat quite far down the table between two large, sweaty, business types. Both worked in oil, both competitively loud and keen to show that they were not at all impressed by a woman Naval Commander, even the infamous Trident one.

They talked oil during the hors d'oeuvres, oil rigs during the starter, oil men during the main course, their salaries, cars, houses, holidays and wives during the pudding, and had never once asked a question about me by the time the cheese arrived.

The food was good, different, rich. The wine was very good. The best one we had was from Tanzania.

Then it was that moment.

"Would the ladies like to retire to the drawing room for coffee?" asked the Butler, though it was not a question.

"Not you Linux!" shouted the Prince. "You're an honorary man, and you too Commander. Unless you want to go with the women?"

One of the oil men sniggered.

"Thank you your Highness, we accept with pleasure," said Lady Linux, spoken so gently as well, and no one sniggered at her. Cow!

OK, I really had to slow down the drinking now or I might deck someone. And to be honest I could deck them all. Not only could I, but I could.

So I had a coffee and Linux came and sat beside me.

"Do you have to?" I said before I could stop myself and Linux laughed so loudly everyone turned to us.

"What's so funny?" shouted the Prince down the table. "Come on Linux, what's so funny."

"Oh," said Linux, "the Commander was just telling me of a young cadet who disarmed four professionals in a matter of seconds."

"I see," said the Prince, plainly not understanding the joke. "Tell me Commander, I've heard that there are more women recruits than men nowadays. Is this true?"

"God help us," muttered one of the oil men, to laughter.

"That's correct your Highness. It was just one of these recruits I was telling Lady Linux about. Four grown men, one young girl. They never stood chance. Most impressive."

"Shouldn't be allowed," said a voice from out of a cloud of cigar smoke.

"Luckily His Highness does allow it." I pointed out.

"Yes we do don't we?" laughed the Prince. "We do like a woman in uniform."

There was laughter and the conversation moved on.

"OK, Lady Linux," I said. "I think I owe you one and I'm not sure if that's a good position to be in."

"You don't owe me anything Commander," she said, "please call me Mint. Or Mint Ubu. I do like Mint Ubu. Mint by itself sounds a bit... lacking, incomplete."

"Mint Ubu," I said.

"Good for you," said Mint Ubu of nothing in particular.

There was a roar of laughter from the Prince's end of the table where all the men were now gathered round.

"Some things never change do they?" I asked, watching them.

"I'm," Mint paused, "not so sure."

"Really?" I asked. "I don't see it ever changing."

"You said your best recruits were women."

"Yes, I suppose so."

"So are mine. The men are... sloppy. Not all, but so many."

"Linux!" It was the Prince again, all heads were turned towards us.

"Linux, what's this about us signing an immigration form for a Wetter. We don't recall signing that?" shouted the Prince.

"Your Highness did, I assure you. But it was some time ago. Maybe your office has forgotten," Mint replied smoothly. "I can have the paperwork sent for if you would like?"

"No, no, no thank you, Lady Linux, I see enough letters during the day anyway. No, I want to see the mutant!"

"She's in hospital Your Highness. She was badly wounded recently while working for me."

"It's a girl! Of course I had forgotten that," the Prince continued shouting.

"Yes Your Highness, a very talented young woman."

"And shot in the head I hear. And survived!" Prince John bellowed up the table. All the while the men around him laughed and commented. "I want to see her. Fetch her, bring her here."

"Your Highness I really don't think..." started Mint but the Prince interrupted.

"Lady Linux, I put up with a lot of shit from you. Everyone wants rid of you. I ignore their complaints. But you are not as indispensible as you think you are. Or your father, for that matter. I want to see this mutant that I, we signed for, now." He slammed his fist on the table.

"Of course Your Highness," said Mint with a smile. Conversation erupted around the Prince.

Mint Ubu pulled a phone out of her coat and made a short call. Then she signalled to the Butler and said:

"Tell His Highness that the Wetlander will be here in the next thirty minutes." The Butler nodded and went over to the Prince to deliver the message.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Oh you are kind. Yes of course I'm fine. I've dealt with His Highness for many years. We are used to each other's ways."

"He's very well informed." I said. "I didn't think he... was so... in touch?"

"Oh yes. He's very well informed. He has to be. I am sure everyone of those men up there," she nodded to the crowd around the Prince, "would love to take his place if they could. Call themselves President or somesuch."

"For the money?" I asked.

"Yes it's always the money. If you are not growing you are shrinking, dying, in their eyes. So ultimately they have to become the President and then the Ruler of the World."

"Well exactly, and you don't?"

"Me? No, I was brought up on Iain Banks' Culture. That's my dream: everyone has what they want, no money, peace, freedom, it's quite simple really."

"But impossible," I said, not wanting to sound so scornful.

"Maybe, but worth aiming for," Mint Ubu shrugged, "we have to try."

I changed the topic.

"So how does the Prince know so much about you. I thought you were..." I stopped, realising I was possibly about to commit treason of some sort, break the Official Secrets Act or something.

"Difficult to hear?" offered Mint smiling. "Yes, but it would be dangerous to be completely invisible. No, we keep to a pretty truthful script actually. We make the calls, send the emails, buy and sell stuff. It keeps the Prince up to date."

"And Felix?"

"It would be worse if he found out about Felix later. No. I've nothing to hide, or not much."

"Do you think the SRC know?"

"I'm sure they do. Your friend Cronin? Oh Yes. But I can't give him everything. I'm not sure who's side he's on."

"There are sides?"

"Oh, there are always sides. Ah, Felix," Mint stood up. I turned round and yes, Felix was there. Wearing more normal clothes, looking normal, apart from the bandage round her head. Her hair was pinned up as ever. An additional seat was put beside mine and Mint lead Felix to the chair.

"Hang on!" shouted the Prince. "I want to see it."

Prince John got up and walked down the room to where Felix stood. She watched as the Prince walked around her, looking her up and down. The Prince was whispered some stuff to her. Mint was looking nervous and then out of the corner of my eye I saw Felix pull a knife on the the Prince! I didn't move, fascinated to see what would happen. Half hoping for a reinactment of what must have happened on the Woodhead road. Was she an assassin afterall, would she try and kill us all?

But nothing happened. The Prince took a step back and I stood up.

"Can I take that please Felix." I said, holding out my hand. "I'll give it back later."

She passed it to me. It was heavy, probably for a Lee-Enfield. It was dated 1907 on the blade.

"Is this your only knife?" I asked. For a split second her eyes moved up and snapped back down. I looked up. Of course! The hair pin. It was actually steel and very sharp at one end. Our eyes met and I gave her the smallest smile and shake of the head. Felix gave a slightly puzzled smile back.

"Only knife I carry," she answered.

"Well I'm glad to hear it," said Prince John relaxing again. "Almost had a heart attack then. Tell me now, why are you here?"

I sat back down, balancing the knife in my hand as Felix made her plea to the Prince.

"We need your help, Prince," Felix began, "we've..."

"By 'we' you mean the Wetters," Prince John interrupted .

Poor Felix, I thought, she was not going to get anywhere with the Prince and his gang. There were whispers around the room, and tutting. Oh dear, asking this lot to give up something like their land was such a non-starter. It didn't matter that they weren't using it, that they probably hadn't ever looked at it let alone set foot on it, that was not the point. Felix didn't understand that, in this world, life was a competition to own as much as possible, that to stop was not just bad business but stupid, wrong. It was one of the reasons I joined the Forces in the first place: the thought of having to take part in this pointless desk-based race was a waste of life. Was I Agreeing with Linux?

The Prince was not impressed either. Felix tried again, bless her, but the Prince was getting drunk and bored and that meant boarish. He kept calling her a mutant, and going on about strontium for some reason and then called her a dog! God he was a pig.

I did think Felix might go for her hair pin at that moment. And I may have been tempted to let her. I could quite see her forcing it through his ear, the point appearing out the other side, a look of surprise on the fat bastard's face. I watched Felix carefully as she stared at the Prince. He looked away eventually and with a wave of his hand dismissed Felix and moved back to his seat at the end of the table. I heard Mint breathe out long and slowly, I think she had been holding her breath too.

I picked up Felix's bayonet and tapped her on the shoulder.

"Fancy a walk?" I turned to Mint, "if you don't mind?"

"No, no, good idea, get some fresh air," encouraged Mint. "I may join you later, I just need to do a couple of things."

She looked up the table to where the men were gathered round the Prince.

"Boring business stuff you know." I thought she may have been about to swear, maybe she was as annoyed as I was.

Felix nodded and we left the room. I wasn't sure if protocol allowed for such a thing, but we went anyway. Probably acceptable as we were women, or mutants or something.

"I'm sorry about that," I said as we went out into a cold wet Scottish summer night.

"Why?" said Felix, "you wanted to kill us a week ago."

"I did didn't I? But I like things organised, by the rules. A week ago you were illegal and then with the wave of a piece of paper you weren't. I'm still not totally sure why you're here. Actually that's not true is it? I think you're telling the truth aren't you? You were here to deliver some old tech to Mint and you wanted to ask for help for your people.

"Anyway, I was on holiday and I'm always grumpy on holiday. Oh crap, I must phone the husband."

We found an open door across the courtyard from the hall and went up it. Ancient stone steps took us up to a short rampart with a view over the Loch to the parked cars beyond. Felix peered over the wall to the water below.

"We're not sure we've ever been this high."

"Really? No, the Hospital was a couple of floors higher I think."

"Freak!" she swore, taking a step back. I had to put my arm out to stop her falling off the rampart. She looked round.

"Oh," Felix's face was pale in the moonlight. "Thank you."

She stared over the dark water of the moonlit loch as if trying to see something or understand something that was not there.

"It's very different south of the wall?" I asked, I had seen it from boats, but I was only now starting understand what it would be like to live there.

"You have space, you have food, and power, and warmth, and you're dry, there's so much less mist and cloud up here. But you're all kind of mean. No, that's not true. Mint, Jane, the nurses... it's... we don't know, you have so much yet you just seem to want it all to yourself, when there's enough to go round."

"Well, you're not going to change that," I said but immediately regretted it: it's not nice to admit to being horrible. But Felix wasn't listening, she was watching a group of people on the causeway. I looked round.

"Is that?" she stopped. "I've just got to..."

She didn't say anymore but went down the stairs quickly. I followed behind, slower, less sure of my footing on the damp steps. Felix was trying hard to not run, but very quickly she was out of the gate and down the causeway and walking towards a group of, I wasn't sure, drivers, young people? As I got closer I saw that it was, in fact, Jane and probably others from Mint's office.

I saw the group separate a bit and Jane looked up. Felix's steps faltered and then she walked straight past them. Jane looked round to watch her go past, but didn't say anything. She looked hurt.

"Love's a bitch." It was Mint beside me. "I do like having a young staff. The camaraderie and the falling in and out of love. I think it keeps me young."

"I'm afraid I would find it tiring, past that sort of nonsense." I said.

"Really? That's a shame. Anyway, I must be off."

"The Prince is finished?" I asked.

"Oh no, barely begun. But I can't be bothered with it all."

"But won't you be missing out on the wheeling and dealing and backhanders?"

"Still have a low opinion of me don't you? Have to fix that," she smiled. "Good night Commander."

"Good night Lady Linux." I watched her walk along the causeway. The youths had split up and were hurrying back to the cars.

I went back into the castle to fetch my coat and walked back to the barracks in the rain: it helped clear my head.

I promised myself that I would phone my husband and children in the morning, and maybe try and get away from Aviemore now. I wasn't sure there was anything left for me to do here. Maybe we would be at war in the morning. Yet Loggerhead hadn't been mentioned the entire night. Did the Prince not know? That seemed unlikely. In fact, if anything he seemed to be in an even better mood than normal.

And I wasn't sure who's side Linux was on. Did that mean I wasn't sure of my loyalty anymore?

I got back to my room, had a shower and went to bed: it was a troubled sleep.

Chapter 6  
Chipping Norton not Chipping Campden

"Shhhh." Someone, Leicester, was whispering in our ear, a hand was placed very lightly over our mouth which was almost panic-inducing but not quite. Either way, not a nice way to wake up.

Then we heard the noise. It was very similar to the sounds around the Smithy when Trumps attacked the second time. But this was further away yet much much bigger. It sounded more like a war.

"What's going on?" we asked Leicester, sitting up.

"There are two scary looking boats behind us. They don't have any lights on. They came round Chipping Norton island and then stopped about five hundred metres away." Leicester whispered.

"We don't think they've seen us. They seem to be watching for something on shore." Cam chipped in, peering into the dark.

"What's going on over there anyway?" We asked. There was not much to see through the mist and pre-dawn light but there was a glare of fires in the distance and sudden flashes followed, a few seconds later, by the sound of explosions.

"Is it the Evangelistas? They must be doing some kind of final push to get rid of the Wetters from the Cotswolds." Said Cam.

"Has the other boat seen them?" We asked. The second dinghy was about fifty metres to our west, closer to land.

"Yes, they're trying to paddle away without being seen, but they keep splashing," Cam explained. "I think those boats are Scientologist, not sure though. Mind you who else could it be? Is that a fiery cross on their flag? They are Evangelists! Not sure. Oh crap!"

There was a flash from the nearest boat and the sound of a really loud gun, a machine gun. We all ducked down. But it seemed like they were firing at something on shore. The second motorboat started firing as well.

"Grab an oar!" shouted Brentford, pulling an oar out from under the baggage. "We've got to get away from this."

Leicester brought out the second oar, put it in the rowlock and began rowing. We picked up speed. The other dinghy did the same. Within a minute we had almost lost sight of the two boats in the mists. Then suddenly the noise changed, the sound was clearer: they were shooting in our direction. And their engines had started.

There was a shout from the other dinghy. Looking over we saw water splashing up around the boat and bullet holes being punched through the hull. There was a scream but we couldn't see from whom because friends were trying to keep low behind the fibreglass hull.

The shooting stopped. By the sound of the engines these were modern, powerful boats. But both the Evangelists and the Scientologists had a lot of money, these boats could belong to either.

"We're going to be killed," whispered Cam.

"Pull up the keel," we ordered. "Bring down the sail, quick, we'll roll her."

Leicester untied the halyard and the sail collapsed down. We rocked the boat and in one action rolled her over with us underneath. We didn't have time to see if the other boat had done the same.

The motorboats sounded very close.

"Everybody dive now." We said and down we all went.

In the faint light we could make out the dark shapes of the two large hulls passing between our boat and the other dinghy. The throb of the engines was loud. They didn't stop and in a few seconds they were gone.

We swam back up to our boat. It took all of us standing on the hull and tipping as far back as we could to right it. Then we lowered the keel and while some of us bailed out the water, we rowed over to the other boat.

The second dinghy was floating low in the water. Inside, the water was dark with blood. Two of the crew were dead, a mass of white bone, blood and guts. Stamford was alive and unhurt though it took some time to realise that for all the gore everywhere. The fourth, Watford, was alive but with a bullet wound in the leg and another in the neck.

The boat was a wreck though. The mast was broken, there were a dozen holes in the hull and though the polstyrene blocks would probably keep it afloat, it was almost breaking in two. We managed to salvage some of the food and a few water bottles but little else. No one said much. Watford made a lot of noise while we stemmed the flow of blood and put bandages on. Stamford was in shock and didn't say anything.

Our boat was getting pretty unstable now with six of us onboard and the extra supplies. We could have made a raft for some of the gear but it would have slowed us down more and we really did not want to hang around the Cotswolds any longer. Especially now the sun was coming up and the mist was starting to clear.

We set sail and for the first hour had to follow the direction the speed boats had gone; we just had to hope they wouldn't come back the same way. When we rounded the head of Chipping Norton Island an argument broke between Brentford and Leicester about which way to go.

"We're supposed to go north to Birmingham and see if we can make land around Rednal." Brentford was saying. "That's what Alne said. And we think we should stick to the plan."

Leicester was having none of it.

"If we do that we have to go round the top of Chipping Campden and you can bet the Happy Clappers are already there. If they've got to Chipping Norton then they're definitely at Chipping Campden and we are not going to get shot at again. We're going to die if we go even slightly west. We've got to get away from here fast, north east. There's got to be something out there. A few hills we can rest up on."

"There's nothing. It's flat from here to Yorkshire and we don't want to go near the Priests." Shouted Brentford. "Look, we go north, sharpish, get away from here, and just get to Topland. Job done."

"Bollocks job done. What does that even mean? Our job only starts when we get to freak'n Topland. We are slow and defenceless and the sooner we disappear into the open sea the better. We can head north when we've gone a bit east."

The problem, of course, was not that no one really liked Brentford, Brentford was funny and meant well in a kind of brutish way, but everyone preferred Leicester.

So, we went with Leicester. We weren't fussed personally, both ways seemed just as dangerous, and we were pretty sure that this was more about the parawing than anything else.

The Cotswolds hills kept popping up out of the water to our right as we sailed north-east. These islands were small: half of a weedy field here, or a line of overgrown hedge there, maybe a burnt-out farmhouse close to the waters' edge. The land rarely rose more then a few metres above sea level and, as the morning went on, they got lower and lower until there were no more.

Early on we could still hear some shooting in the distance but that petered out as well and though we kept listening out for the sound of engines, we never heard them again.

At midday we came to an island that, according to the map, was somewhere between Marston Doles and Upper Shuckburgh. There were trees at one end of a long mound of green grass that curved out of the water for three hundred metres and then dipped back under again.

We sailed in from the north, over and into some waterlogged trees, hoping that they would give us some cover if any more boats came looking for us.

Brentford had headphones on and was nodding gently to the silent beats. Alne had said Brentford had anger issues and had donated a small music player and headphones. We poked Brentford as we approached the island.

"We don't think we should stay long," said Brentford, looking round. "We're still too close to the Cotswolds for our liking."

"Jackie DeShannon not calming you anymore?" replied Leicester slightly meanly. "Anyway, we're going to take a look around, see what's what."

Brentford took the headphones off and sighed.

"Jackie almost makes us feel more violent actually. Still," Brentford continued, "the daydreams are quite entertaining."

We gave Brentford are worried look but couldn't help notice that Leicester had taken the parawing so we clambered out and followed.

"Aren't you going to help with Watford?" called Cam after us.

We felt bad but we were more worried about what Leicester was going to do.

"They're just cuts, you'll be fine." We called back, which was mean. We knew they weren't actual bullet holes but still they had gouged the flesh something chronic. We were glad we weren't Watford. Which was a shitty thing to think but you know, what the freak.

Leicester was already out of the trees and heading up the slope to the highest point of the island.

"How about here?" Leicester was looking around and up at the clouds above us. "What do you reckon?"

"Not now Leicester, come on," we said. "We need to keep our heads down, not wave a freaking great banner saying: look what we've got."

"You come on! You saw what happened to the other boat. That could have been us. It could happen to us this afternoon or tonight, tomorrow morning. We want to fly before we die. Let's do it!"

Leicester began unwrapping the parawing, removing the ropes that had converted it into a hammock, and spread it out.

"Wasn't keen on the idea of jumping off a cliff. We think a slope like this would be as good a place to try as any. What did you do?" Leicester asked.

"You mean when we were underwater? We don't know." We were trying to stall Leicester but we'd known the kid since we were children and when the mood was taken there was no stopping the git.

"Freak," we sighed. There really was no way out now. "Fine, These four ropes, hold them, we've got to get the wing to fan out more somehow, maybe into the wind, a bit like a kite."

Leicester turned into the breeze and the parawing started to billow out.

"Can't feel anything." Leicester said.

"Try walking down the slope," we said. Leicester took a few tentative steps and the parawing filled out more. Suddenly, Leicester was on tiptoes.

"Holy crap!" with another step Leicester was lifted into the air, then the wind died and Leicester came down again.

"Oh my freaking God that was incredible." We couldn't help smiling. It had been an amazing sight. Very gently, Leicester had been lifted into the air.

"Do it again." We said as the wind picked up. It was so exciting to see.

Leicester took a couple more steps, the parawing filled with air and they took off. This time Leicester went higher.

"Pull down on the front ropes!" We shouted up. "It'll bring you down."

"No! We want to go up!" Leicester shouted back and pulled on the the back ropes. The parawing turned upwards and stalled. The wing slid to the ground. Leicester landed backwards with a heavy thud, the parawing collapsed on top.

Leicester was laughing from under the parawing, trying to brush it away.

"Hell's shit, you've got to try this. But," said Leicester wuickly. "We've got to have another go first."

Leicester gathered the parawing and laid it out again properly. With a flick of the ropes the parawing caught the wind and in a couple of steps down the slope it was lifting Leicester up again.

This time though Leicester pulled down on the front ropes a bit and the parawing glided forward and began lifting higher as it gathered speed. In seconds Leicester was out over the water.

With surprising skill Leicester pulled gently on the left ropes and the parawing turned and flew along the edge of the island. Leicester banked again and came down on dry land.

"What the freak is that?" Asked Cam behind us. We turned round and everyone was there, even Watford, hobbling along on Stamford's arm.

Leicester was screaming and laughing with excitement now. The others ran over and began lifting the parawing off the ground and feeling the material. Cam stayed with us.

"Is this the secret then?" Cam asked.

"Yeah," we answered.

"And you couldn't tell us?"

"We thought we had to keep it safe."

"Do you mean keep it to yourself? You couldn't trust us?"

"Sorry Cam," we said turning away from Leicester to face Cam, who was looking more hurt than we had expected. "It's not like this happens often. We didn't know what the right thing to do was. Bill and Ben seemed to think we should keep this secretly. And seeing what happened with Trumps, we think the Pot Men were right. This is trouble."

"And you think we would have made it worse?"

"No, but, we don't know, it's already made Leicester crazy."

"What's going to happen now?" asked Cam.

"Well, we think we're probably sleeping in Leicester's hammock from now on for a start."

"Oh God, it is as well. We hadn't noticed. That's your freak'n hammock isn't it? Nice disguise."

"Thanks. Lasted all of one day."

"Do you think that's what Trumps is after?"

"Yeah, probably. It's pretty special stuff according to Bill and Ben."

"What were you planning on doing with it?"

"Nothing really, it was just coming with us. Trying to keep it safe."

"Leicester's up again." Pointed out Cam.

We turned round and, sure enough, Leicester was flying and getting bolder, turning left and right, getting the hang of rising and falling. This time though the landing was perfect and close to where we stood.

Everyone cheered but Leicester looked worried.

"There are boats headed this way. Coming up from the Cotswolds. It's probably the Clappers again."

"Freak, we're freaked then," said Brentford.

"How far away are they?" we asked.

"Couple of kilometres, maybe?" Leicester replied. "It's kind of difficult to say when you're up there."

Leicester couldn't help smirking and we couldn't help punching an arm.

"What's that for?"

"Being a knob."

"How many boats?" asked Cam, "the ones with the machine guns?"

"No, actually didn't seem like that, more like Trumps' chuggers coming to think of it."

"So we could outrun them?"

"If we dumped the gear," we said, "and sail a close reach, kind of due east, we could maybe get eight knots."

"We'll fly!" exclaimed Leicester. "That'll save weight. We could bomb them!"

"What? Holding a lit petrol bomb with your feet?" We asked. "For freak's sake let's get going."

The other started running back through the trees to the boat. Leicester grabbed our shoulder.

"We mean it. We're gonna fly."

"Freak'n fly then!" We shook Leicester's arm away and ran through the trees to the boat.

"Leicester's flying!" We shouted to them. "Let's sink the boat and we'll hide out among the trees. They can't have seen us yet."

"But they'll chase Leicester," shouted Cam as we reached the boats.

"Well that's a freak sight better than them chasing us in this tub. We can't out run them, not with all our weight, and we need the water and food. Come on let's just hide it out."

"How long have we got?" asked Brentford.

"Dunno, fifteen minutes?" We answered, grabbing water bottles and tins of food and walking out into the trees, dropped them into the deeper water. The others copied us. Then we took out the polystyrene blocks, weighted them down with rocks and dropped them in too.

We could hear the engines of the other boats now.

"Shall we take a look?" asked Cam.

"No!" we said, "if they see you they'll know we're here. Just get out among the trees and go down deep. With luck they won't sail too close to the stumps."

We unscrewed the drain plug and dragged the dingy out among the trees and sank it.

"That's going to be a nightmare to bring back up." Brentford muttered, swimming beside us.

"Look at Leicester go!" said Cam. It was true, Leicester was already a dot rising into the distance.

"Let's hope they go after him," we grunted before taking a deep breath and sinking down into the waves. We gathered round a group of tree roots in the middle of the underwater forest and locked arms or feet under them. Then we waited.

We could hear the engines as they came round the island, slower, rougher sounding than the powerful and modern patrol boats we had heard earlier that morning, but still scary to hear.

They seemed to have split up and come round both ends of the island. Maybe they had seen us? Or they had spotted Leicester and were just checking the islands in case someone else was here?

Then they stopped their engines. We could see the undersides of five hulls through the rotting tree trunks. A couple of smaller boats were lowered and were rowed ashore.

Watford was starting to wriggle, struggling to stay underwater. It looked like it might be possible to rise slowly behind one of the bigger trees and take a quick breath without being seen. We held on to Watford's good leg as we rose slowly to the surface. We noticed a small cloud of blood from Watford's wound. With hardly a ripple Watford's head rose out of the water, took a breath and gave the thumbs up to be lowered.

An enormous eel came out of the shadows, grabbed Watford and in one smooth action dragged the body back into the gloom leaving our hands reaching out for nothing. Watford was gone.

Brentford was shouting great bubbles of air and looking round wildly. We went over and tried put a hand over Brentford's mouth and, putting our face right in front of Brentford's, tried to will Brentford to calm down.

But Brentford was out of air and began gulping. At any moment Brentford was going to race to the surface.

We tried to go up slowly together. Cam came up as well to try to help slow down our rise. Stamford stayed down, still not really reacting to what was going on.

But Brentford came up too noisily, taking a loud gasp of air, letting out a kind of a whine like a dog and splashing around. There were shouts from the boats and the shore. We tried to drag Brentford back down but that only made it worse, adding to the panic.

"We're not going back down. Let go of us," Brentford began shouting, "let go!"

People with guns were running out into the water towards us and we could hear the oars of a boat behind us.

"What have we got here? Mermen? We've caught ourselves some little Wetter fishes!" Shouted a voice we'd heard before. "And you know what we do with fishes don't you? I'm going to cook them real good 'til they're all piping hot then I'm going to lay them out real nice on a plate and I'm going to make them sweat, you know, with some pepper, get them real hot and when they're good and fried an just ready to talk they can tell me where my stuff is. Can't you? Stuff you took. Mine. You don't do that to me. Nobody does that to me. We know what happens then don't we? It's Pay Time. Playtime. Pay up time. Damn good. Whoa! We'll make this island great again!"

There was a lot of cheering and laughing as we were grabbed and hauled into the rowing boat and brought ashore, our arms pinned behind us.

Trumps was waiting on the island, red faced with a flat layer of white hair that flapped in the breeze.

"I said I would get them back and here they are. And you know I think I recognise you," said Trumps looking straight at us. "I do know you and you know that I know you and you know me so you know what I'm going to be doing because everybody knows me. I am the greatest businessman on the seas. I do the deals cuz I know the deals and who deals and where the deal is so I get the best deals for me and the boys. That's why they call me Big Deals. I am Mr Deal and I trumps every deal there is. Hell Yeah!"

"You're so full of shit." We couldn't help.

But there was a chorus of Whoas and Hell Yeahs around us, plus one shoobeedoobeedo, which had us all looking round, except for Trumps. Trumps was staring at us again.

"You got something to say? You're the big cheese here? You're the one with the puffed up chest? You ready to fight? I'm ready to fight. I'm always read to fight. I am Mr Fight. What you gonna do? Slap me with a fish?" Trumps looked around. The Mugs laughed.

"Pinch me with your lobster claws?" Trumps waved the famously small hands around, pinching the thumb and forefingers together. There were laughs and cheers now.

"All wrap me up in your eight legs, your suckers popping pop pop pop as you wrap around me." Lots of laughter now plus a lot of popping noises.

"You crazy mutant fish folk. No wonder they built a wall to keep you out. It don't keep me out. No Sirree. I've got friends, real friends, high up friends, friends in the highest places. Me and the Prince, we're like this." Trumps waved little crossed fingers around so everyone could see them.

"They've all got to be my friends. The Scats: better than best friends. They love me. Can't get enough of me. Why?" Trumps looked around at the Mugs, arms high in the air.

"Why?" No one was sure what to say.

"Why? Coz I make the deals." There was a huge cheer, possibly of relief. Trumps slapped us hard across the cheek.

"You better learn not to smile son when I'm talking." We hadn't realised we were smiling. Guess it was a natural reaction to bullshit.

"Sure," we said, our eyes were watering but we managed a smile. Trumps smiled back and punched us in the stomach. We're glad to say we didn't go down, but only because we were still held by the arms. But we were bent over coughing.

"We'll make camp here tonight boys. Then we'll see what we're gonna do with these three little fish we caught. Maybe we'll catch ourselves a flying fish." More cheers from the Mugs.

"Tie'em up, top of the hill. Don't wan'em sneaking off into the water now do we. Like eels." Trumps seemed to have a bottomless supply of fish references.

We were pushed and pulled up to the top of the little island and tied together and forced to sit down. Then we were left alone while they unloaded their tents and food from the boats and got ready for the evening. Fires were lit and guards were put at either end of the island.

"Can we suggest something?" whispered Cam. We were all tied together, back to back.

"Better not be about peeing. We're gagging," said Brentford.

"We were wondering why you were bouncing around." We returned.

"Hang on," said Cam. "Firstly, if we're going to talk we need a sign to shut up if someone's getting too close and might hear what we're saying."

"Really?" Brentford sounded shocked. "You're planning secret signs already. We're probably going to be freak'n killed pretty nastily in a few hours as some sort of night's entertainment for the Mugs and you're planning secret signs?"

"Yes," said Cam, "we think we should."

"Why?" asked Brentford, "why the freak?"

"Because we're looking at Stamford," replied Cam.

"What the freak!" Brentford swung round so hard we all toppled over which got a laugh from some of the Mugs nearby. And some comments about being oily.

"Freak's sake Brentford you fantastic freak'n knob-end." We whispered as we struggled to sit back upright again. "Calm the freak down or you'll freak'n ruin it."

"Well Cam could've freak'n said," whispered Brentford angrily as we all sat back up again.

"We were trying, Brentford. Now, shut the freak up," said Cam. "So, if we say Aye-aye, it means: change topic now."

"Don't," Cam continued, and we felt Cam elbow Brentford. "Don't stop talking, because that means we were being secret. Just change topic. "

"OK, OK," said Brentford, "fine, we'll change topic."

"How far away was S?" we asked, we could feel Brentford about to ask who S was so we stuck an elbow in too. It worked.

"S has come all the way round the island to this side. About my eleven o'clock." We felt another elbow go into Brentford.

"Freak!" Brentford muttered. "We worked it out. S'like our seven o'clock."

"Ayeaye," said Cam, "we do like a nice trout, fried or baked. We're never sure. Yeah we first saw S during Trumps' chat with you. You alright by the way Felix?"

"Yeah, fine. Hits like your Gran. Ayeaye prefer jellied eel when we can get it on a nice day like today when the fish are jumping. What can S do though?"

"Well S saw us looking and we nodded. Then S's hand came up flat and disappeared."

"Wait! That means wait," said Brentford excitedly. "Oh freak'n fish. Aye no, ayeaye, we love fish."

"Fucking wierd you lot, can you not think of anything else but fucking fish?" a Mug asked, walking by.

"Lovely fishy, stinky fishy, fishy on a stick." We shouted after the Mug. Which got a stone thrown at us.

"Yes Brentford, it means wait," said Cam. "We think S's got a plan."

"How the freak can Stamford save us?" Asked Brentford.

"Brentford!" We both said together, though Cam's was more of a whisper. And we both elbowed this time. Brentford grunted.

"But what can S do?" Brentford asked again. "Aye freak'n Aye, shitebags!"

"Planning a great escape are you?" It was Trumps again. "Going to try and wriggle out of this one are you?"

Trumps crouched down in front of us.

"Do you know what I want? What I'm looking for? Who I'm looking for? Do you? Do you?"

He glared and stared. We said nothing.

"Good," Trumps said. "That's what I like to hear. You have a nice long think about what I said. And you be ready to tell, real soon. Otherwise, well you have a think about that too. But let me say that for you things could get a little uncomfortable."

Trumps smiled and stood.

"You take care now." Trumps said, giving a little salute and then walked away.

"S's freak'n plan had better be freak'n good," muttered Brentford. We nodded, not that the other two could see.

We had a rough idea what Stamford could do but we had no idea what Leicester would do next. If Leicester had any plans to do anything at all. Leicester might not even know we had been captured.

There were the petrol bombs, maybe Stamford had plans for them?

It occurred to us that we might not see Leicester ever again. Perhaps Leicester would just keep flying. Or fall into the sea when a rope broke or control was lost or was shot down by Toplanders.

"Has Leicester gone?" we asked quietly.

"Of course Leicester's gone," said Brentford, "we saw the shite fly off. "

"Maybe," said Cam, "maybe."

"Toss-pot!" exclaimed Brentford, "still need a piss too. Oh sod it. You know what... now we don't."

Which made the ground a bit wet, or wetter. It seemed a small price to pay to get Brentford to stop wriggling and leg-bouncing.

"Thanks Brentford," said Cam.

"Just my gift to you," replied Brentford.

"So, to recap," we started. "Ayeaye, do like a bit of haddock on turnip chips."

"For fucks' sake, do you guys ever talk about anything else?" Shouted a Mug giving us a kick. "Is your life that shit? We have beer and beef, sometimes even pork and beans."

"The recap?" asked Cam after the Mug had left.

"Yes," we started again. "We're sitting in piss, on a small island surrounded by Mugs, and Trumps plans to kill one of us in front of the others in some slow fashion to find out where Leicester and the parawing have gone which we don't know because Leicester flew off."

"OK," said Cam. "But... prawns!"

"Yes prawns.. but we have S somewhere, possibly with a plan to rescue us, or possbily just waving goodbye."

"Oh freak," said Brentford, "we never thought of that. Cam, was Stamford waving goodbye?"

"We didn't think so," said Cam. "It was more of a hard, stay, sort of hand signal than a wavey wave."

"Maybe we need to come up with something ourselves. We still have all three knives. They never searched us."

"Mugs," said Cam disbelievingly.

"It's strange but there you go."

"They took our knife," said Brentford gloomily."

"Yes but you wear it like a sword you numpty," said Cam. "Felix and us keep them inside our clothes to stop them getting caught on stuff when we go swimming."

"And it's kind of threatening," we added, "wandering around with a weapon for all to see."

"Well aren't you freak'n clever. We like it out. It feels nice against our leg. And we kind of feel cool." Explained Brentford after a pause.

"You're such a," Cam searched for the word, "boy, aren't you?"

"Anyway, we can reach the knife in our boot anytime we want," we said, "and can cut ourselves free in a minute or so."

"But here's no point here in daylight is there?" Cam pointed out.

"No," we agreed, "though we really only need to make it to the sea, they'd be hard pushed to catch us once we were in. They just can't swim as well as us."

"So we run for it?" asked Brentford. "Though we do want our knife back."

"No, dabs, pollock, herring, eel," we said

"Whiting, salmon, mustn't forget Trout," went on Cam. "No, one of us and we'd not like to guess that it would be me, would get caught."

"Well we're OK with that," said Brentford.

"Thanks," said Cam.

"We would kind of like us all to make it," we said. "But later, when Trumps has got us as the evening's entertainment and everyone's looking at us, it's going to a whole lot more difficult to escape unnoticed then."

"Unless S does something," Cam said.

"Exactly," said Brentford, "was it a shitting wave or was it an octopus?"

"Octopus, forgotten them. Nice. It was a Wait. We're sure of it."

"OK, we wait," we said. "But we're going to move one of our knives up our sleeve, so could we all do a big wriggle please while we... OK thanks, got it."

It was more like five in the evening now. Still a long time to go before it got dark. And a long time for Stamford to stay in the water. We mean, it was doable, but if you weren't doing much it would get cold just standing there.

We wondered what Stamford was doing: if they had found a place out of the water, or maybe underwater with a breathing pipe. In which case they were probably still in the among the tree stumps where a bit of piping would go unnoticed.

And Leicester? Could be anywhere. Four hours ago was it now? At what? Ten miles an hour? Possibly forty miles away? That was crazy. But, if we remembered the map properly, it was forty miles over sea. The next island marked on the map was Copt Oak, about a hundred miles north, though there could be many tiny hilltops above sea level along the way. Maybe Leicester hadn't gone so far at all?

But it was probably all down to Stamford, or one of us was going to be dead by morning.

The Mugs seemed fairly normal up close. They went about their business like the rest of us. Preparing food, making up shelters for the night, cleaning weapons, dealing with the constant damp, rust and rot. They did seem mainly to be male.

There were, on the whole more female babies than male babies among the Wetlanders. Bill and Ben had said that it was Nature's way of trying to increase a population.

But what came across most was how inefficient, unhelpful and sort of independent the Mugs were. Everyone seemed to be organising their own food and fires by themselves or in very small groups of twos and threes at most. And they seemed angry with each other, a lot. Fights would break out. There was a lot of angry shouting. A lot of anger in general.

The Mugs were arseholes. A collection of the unpleasantest folk, all together. Maybe that was why Treetops and The Ridgeway were normally kind, quiet, pleasant places, if a bit desperate and poor: the arseholes left to be Mugs.

Maybe the Mugs served a purpose after all, a dumping ground for wankers. Even if the cost of harassment and attacks was high.

What a thought! Bigging it up for the freak'n Mugs. There was another thought too: they became Trumps' playthings which kept Trumps entertained and away from the rest of us.

"We've just thought of two good things about Mugs." We said outloud.

"That's impressive," said Cam. "We were lost in thought about what a bunch of arseholes they were."

"Ah, we got past that and realised they served the useful purpose of keeping Trumps away from us for most of the time."

"Until now," pointed out Cam.

"Yes, good point, until now."

"Glad to hear you boys talking about me. That's what I like to hear most in the whole world." Said Trumps, coming up to us. "Finally get bored of talking about fish?"

"Then we got to talking about arseholes and that made us think of you." We just couldn't help it. It's like a natural reaction to bullies. We think we've told ourselves off about this already today.

"Oh! Oh! Oh! We've got ourselves a winner." Shouted Trumps. "This Wetter has selected himself for our personal attention tonight. Look's like it's game on! Get him up boys!"

A group of Mugs separated us from Cam and Brentford and pulled us to our feet.

"Bring him along to our tent. Tie him to the pole. Bring the other two, stick'em somewhere nice and closeby so they can watch real good."

We were taken across the small island to a garish tent of red and gold with tassles over the entrance. In front of it was a flag pole. A red flag with a big white T hung from the top.

Our arms were tied behind the post and we stood there and watched Trumps and the Mugs eat their evening meal. It took a couple of hours. Food was thrown at us every now and then to much laughter. We saw Cam and Brentford pushed around a bit but not a lot happened. A group of Mugs sat around Trumps as they ate. Mostly they listened to Trumps non-stop ranting.

Chapter 7  
The Strontium Dog

"Night night," we said, "night night."

We were shaken again.

"Get up Felix. Wake up." It was Jane.

"Sleeping," we explained.

"Mint wants you. At the Palace. You've got to get up."

"No. We're in hospital, dying."

"Bollocks. Get up." We felt a pain in our arm.

"No no no no, here, let me do that." We felt another stab of pain in the other arm. The needles were getting pulled out!

"What the freak!" They pulled down my blankets. "Stop! We're getting up. Just give us a freak'n minute will you?"

We sat up and felt light-headed. We looked at the nurse who was hovering close by.

"Are you sure we're OK to get up?" The nurse had no chance to answer before Jane interrupted.

"Course you are, now come on I've got you some clothes."

Jane dropped some clothes on the bed: trousers, tops, some boots.

"Don't we have to wear like a balldress to a palace or something?" we asked.

"Probably," replied Jane. "How the fuck would I know? But this is all you've got. Mint had it brought up yesterday."

"Fine," we started undressing. The nurse and Jane left the room quickly. We put on the new clothes which were strangely scratchy and rough. Was this what new clothes felt like? We opened the bedside drawer (Jane must have mentioned it to us at some point over the last couple of days) and pulled out our bayonet, hairpin and penknife. We attached the bayonet to the belt and tucked it inside the trousers, and hid the penknife inside our boot. Lastly we twisted up our hair and pushed the pin through. We took a deep breath and stood up. Everything swayed for a minute then, when it calmed down, we took a step and another until we opened the door.

"You take longer than me," Jane said Jane, taking astep back to inspect us. "You have a curious ability to look cool and a messy at the same time don't you?"

"Do we? OK. Thank you." We said turning to the nurse. "Not sure if we're coming back, so, thank you."

The nurse smiled.

"That's OK, you look after yourself." The nurse said and followed us down the passageway to the lift. "And don't touch your bandage for at least three days now. And don't exert yourself. And keep it dry. And gosh, just be careful. You can always come back here you know."

The lift door closed and we almost lost our balance as the lift dropped down. We could feel pressure build inside our head. Jane was talking but we hadn't heard it. We just concentrated on staying upright.

"Sorry, what? Why do we have to be high?" We caught the last few words, but they hadn't made much sense.

"Not high, Highness. Always call him Your Highness."

"OK," we said, fairly certain we would forget that. "Where are we going?"

"Oh my God!" shouted Jane, just managing to hold back a slap on the arm. Then there was this grunty noise. "Grrrr. You're so annoying! What do you think I've just been telling you?"

"Sorry," we said, pointing to our head. "Hole."

"Bollocks. You've got two brains, there's nothing wrong with you. Anyway the bullet hardly went in."

"Guess you feel better then about shooting me then?"

"I do actually yes. The Doctor explained. Get in." We had been walking across the carpark to a minibus. Jane pulled back a sliding door. "Go on."

"The Doctor explained?" we asked after sitting down.

"He said it didn't seem to have done much damage. Anyway, I can't tell a difference between you and the first Felix."

"That's nice," we said.

"No, sorry," said Jane who had sat in the front seat and had turned round to face us. "But you know your friend Ben or Bill? Well, Mint said that she thought he was right about you and your brains."

"OK, what's that then?"

"You're not two different people in the same body, like fighting to get out. It really is a backup brain. Like a raid computer hardrivey thing, whatever the fuck that is. Sam said that's why they called you Raid."

"Fine," I said. What the freak! It just felt like us to us. Didn't feel any different. If someone said we had two brains then sure, what the freak, two brains it is. "So where are we going?"

"Oh Jesus."

"Hi Felix." It was Sam driving. We hadn't noticed. In fact there were lots of people in the van and it smelled of booze.

"What's going on?" we asked.

"I'm the designated driver, sadly," said Sam. "We've been off to see The Sisters of Mersey: Return to Aviemore gig. Pretty good. But then Mint phoned so we had to come and get you."

"Sorry."

"S'OK, gig had finished anyway, just on a bit of a pub crawl now."

"So, where are we going?" we asked again.

"Fuuuuuuck!" shouted Jane. We wished we were as drunk as Jane was. "Mint called. She wants you at the Palace, now. The Prince wants to see you."

"Why does he want to see us?" we asked.

Driving at night was mesmerising. There were lights above the road that flashed by in the dark.

"He sent me a text. He thinks he loves you." Jane said.

"Did he?" we asked. Jane and Sam laughed. We guessed not then. Jane sat back round and stopped talking to us. Which gave us a few minutes of peace.

Wasn't this one of the things we were supposed to do? Find out if there was some way to get our families into the North. We tried to think of sensible things to say. To a Prince! In front of people, like Mint. We just had to do it. And succeed.

Then the road got a bit rougher and the van slowed down. Through the front window we could see, across a dark lake, a real live castle. There were lights at the windows. High dark walls. Guards armed with guns right in front of us.

Sam got out and talked to one of the guards. They laughed together.

"Come on," said Jane, dragging open the side door. "I'll walk you over."

We got out and took Jane's arm. Together we walked along a stone road that was raised a few inches above the lake.

"Now then," said Jane. "Behave, don't kill anyone."

Jane glanced up at my spike.

"With that. We all know he's a plonker. But they run the country so stay cool." Jane laughed. "Say something funny. If you can make them laugh you'll be fine."

We had reached the castle gates. There were more guards and strange folk in funny clothes. One had fake white hair, a bit like Trumps but curly. Did it mean something? We had to remember to ask someone about that, maybe not Jane, Sam?

They asked our name and Jane answered:

"Felix," Jane paused as if looking for the right word. "From the south. Lady Linux's messenger. The Prince has asked for her."

We were let in. Jane stood at the gate and watched us go in.

"Good luck!" Jane shouted. "Behave! Tell a joke!"

We turned and waved, but Jane was already being ushered away.

We were lead into a room in the castle. There was a double door in front of us. We could hear a lot of people talking and laughing. There was a smell of tobacco which made us think of the last time someone had found a good haul of cigarettes. Their plastic wrappers had kept them dry over the years. There had been a big party that night. It was a nice memory.

Then the doors opened and we were moved into the room beyond.

The smell of tobacco was extraordinary! But bigger, richer smelling, this was cigars, that was the name. Wow! What a smell, nice but thick, you could cut it. There was Mint and the officer, Colme, at one end of the table and a lot of folk in matching dark clothes at the other end as if they were separated by sex or something. They were all staring at us. Mint stood up and got a chair out for us but then this loud person shouted:

"Hang on I want to see it." It! What the freak! It? They asked us here? Couldn't they be a bit polite about it?

But the voice was strange, fat, sort of overfed fat, drippy and wide of mouth. Then this large person started walking round us like we were a boat someone has just built, inspecting us.

Is this what Princes were like? Folk would read stories to us as a kid and Princes were nice, kind, heroes. This was like a different type of Trumps, without a wig.

Then the Prince started smelling us, sniffing around us like a dog. It was actually revolting! And we had to beg this Highness for help?

"It looks normal to me. Touch of the tar brush I suspect. Doesn't even smell. Boris you said they smelt of fish." The Prince tried to smell us again.

"What the... what are you doing?" We put our hands up to push the Prince away but we weren't sure if we wanted to touch. Up close the cigar smell from those flabby red lips was really bad.

"You are not to speak to His Highness unless spoken to first," said this other person, in another weird white wig.

"Why not?" we asked. But wig-person had disappeared.

"Quite right," said the Prince, "you are not our subject, you don't have to abide by our rules."

Strangely, this calmed us down a bit. It was good to hear someone else speaking a bit more like we did.

"Tell us," ordered the Prince, "is it true you killed four men? Hang on a sec Mint, is this who you were talking about earlier? You lied to me. Anyway. Miss? Wetter. Your name, Felix? Funny name for a girl, you are female aren't you? How did you kill four grown men?"

"We used our knife," we answered.

"How big was the knife?" asked the Prince, smiling. So we got it out for him.

"Here." That gave them a fright! Freakers. Serves them right. The Prince almost fell over. We noticed the soldier giving us a look. Colme quite liked that, we thought. Oh, but getting up now.

"Can I take that please Felix?" the soldier asked, holding out a hand. "I'll give it back later."

We shrugged and gave it to Colme. Who had better not be lying. We had others, fairly certain we could take the soldier. Oh, but we really were wound up! Had to try to calm down.

"Is this the only knife?" Asked Colme. Why was Colme looking at us like that? Our pin! Freak, Colme was a fast one. The soldier did not say any more but gave us a look like: we know you, we know it's more than just a pin, but that's OK, just try not to stick it into this pig here.

"Yeah of course," we said, "only need to carry the one."

"Well, we're jolly glad to hear it," said Prince John jovially. "Almost had a heart attack then. Very sharp of you. But tell me now, why are you here?"

The Prince waved a hand at Mint who had been about to speak. What a really bossy freak!

"We know," the Prince went, "you're a messenger, with a special delivery. But why are you really in Scotland? The Commander here thinks you're a spy, are you?"

Was this our moment? Was this what Alne wanted us to do? We hadn't said that name in so long. Our throat felt tight, we were going to cry. Freak! Stop this!

"We came to speak to you." We managed to say.

"Us?" asked the Prince. "How charming! Such a long and dangerous journey. All for me. I'd love to hear what you have to say. But make it quick, we've got brandy over there."

The wig-person brought the Prince a drink.

"We need your help," we began, "Prince."

"You mean the Wetters?" The Prince interrupted. Something the Prince seemed to do a lot. It was very annoying. Was this what all Princes were really like? Could maybe do without them then.

"Yes, us, we're dying. We have little food and less and less land to grow more. The Scientologists are attacking us, the Evangelicals are attacking us, the Mugs are attacking us and the Priests are no help. We've seen your land." How difficult was this to understand? "Your people are old, we've hardly seen any young folk and we've got loads of young people. Your lands are so empty and we could work these fields and grow food for everyone. We're good farmers, we can grow anything, anywhere, you wouldn't believe what we've managed to grow, we don't need much, don't need houses, we can build are own and we've got tents and boats. We don't need anything really, just a little bit of space. You have fields and moors empty, there's so much space. Please, you have to help us."

When we stopped. We could hear all sorts of whispers from out of the smoke, and laughing. What the freak was there to laugh at? This was life and death for our families and friends, no different from their families, probably cousins for all they knew.

"Very touching we're sure, but we don't have to help you. You're not our subjects. We're not sure you're even people. You have two brains for goodness sake. We've seen the doctors' report. You're mutants, Strontium Dogs. We can't have you here mixing your mutant blood with ours. And our hospitals cost money and our schools and our roads. Do you have money?"

"No, but we could earn it. We work hard."

"That's bollocks," said someone at the end of the table. "Everyone knows the people in the South work half as hard or as productively as the people in the North, because of the rain. Just lazy. Otherwise they would have made their lives better by now. Had plenty of time."

"Hear hear," agreed someone else. "You should have made it better."

"Yes. Why do we have to take your filth just because you're too lazy to clean it up yourself."

"Please," we begged. "You could save so many lives, so many children."

"Ah, but you see we are thinking of the children. We had a Priest in here only this morning saying he was worried about the children. Think what he would be saying if we let you lot in. No. So many people here," the Prince looked round the room, "paid good money to get into Scotland. It wouldn't be right to just let anyone in now would it? Unfair."

"But you need people."

"Your Highness," the Butler reappeared again. "You need people, Your Highness, please."

We so wanted to deck the butler. We so wanted to just pull the pin out and explode among these deaf, deaf people. Why were they working so hard to not hear us?

"Maybe we do, maybe we're getting old, maybe the country needs a new, young workforce to do the hard work and pay the taxes." Said the Prince suddenly, we turned, yes, this was it! The Prince had heard, had understood! "But you look different and you speak different, you even smell different, and for that matter, you probably don't want us as your Prince. I'm sorry my young mutant chum. We don't know who it will be but it won't be someone who has got two brains, surely even you can understand that."

We stared at the Prince. We could feel our hand going up to our head. The bulging neck, the sweaty lips with the smile that would be so good to stop. We could easily get the rest. As long as Colme stayed out of it. Maybe take the soldier first. No, the Prince first.

The Prince turned and walked away.

There was a light tap on our shoulder. It was Colme with our knife. Offering it to us to... no, not that. Colme spoke to Mint.

Mint's voice rang clearly: "Good idea, get some fresh air. Maybe I'll join you later."

And Colme lead us out of the room, out of the castle, and we let her. When we could have... no we couldn't, it wouldn't have helped. Not helped our families and friends south of the wall anyway.

It was cool outside, raining, made it feel like home. And the air was clear. We could breathe again. We started to calm down.

"Sorry," said the soldier beside us, and gave our knife back. We checked to see if it was the same, in case the soldier had... had what? Swapped it? Blunted it?

"Why are you helping us now?" We asked. "You wanted to kill us a week ago."

Which made the soldier laugh.

"Yes I did, didn't I?" The Commander replied. "Sorry about that too. Well, you were illegal and my orders were to stop you. Now, you're legal and, well, I like you. You're quite... something.

"Shit," Colme continued, "I must phone my husband."

Which made us laugh.

We walked across the cobbles to the far wall with a door in it. Inside were steps going up into the dark. So we went in. The steps curved round and we came out high up, near the roof where there was a path along the inside of the castle wall. We could lean through the gaps and look down at the water. It was high!

"We're not sure we've ever been this high before." We said. It made us feel dizzy being able to look down like that, straight down as if we were falling. That was nonsense. We'd been up higher trees than this, hadn't we? What was the difference between being high in a tree and high in something human made?

"Really? The Hospital was a couple of floors higher I think." Said Colme beside us, looking round the castle walls and courtyard. "Maybe you never saw out the window though."

We looked away across the lake to the hills. Even in the gloom we could see so much further than down south. The air was so much clearer up here. We could really see things.

We watched a person, what looked like a soldier on a horse walking slowly through some trees. On a midnight ride. Or maybe a patrol. We were about to ask Colme about it when we saw a another figure rise out of the bushes and pull the soldier off the horse. We even heard a slight cry.

"Freak!" We took a step back and Colme caught us, stopping us from falling off the wall. We looked round at the Commander, Colme was smiling at us, they had not seen Brentford kill the soldier.

We looked back to the shore. There was nothing. Even the horse had disappeared.

"Is it very different south of the wall?" Colme asked us. There was a gentleness in the old soldier's voice we had not heard before. So different from the barked orders when they had been hunting us. We shook our head. But Brentford! What the freak!

"You have space, you have food, and... and warmth." We had to speak, to try to be normal, but all we wanted to do was run. Run to Brentford or run away. We had no idea. "And you're dry, there's so much less mist and cloud up here. But all kinds of meanness. No, that's not true. Mint, Jane, the nurses. It's, we don't know. You have so much yet you all seem to want more just for yourselves."

"Well, you're not going to change that." Colme answered sadly.

There were other sounds now from the causeway, round by the gate. We could just make out Jane and some others from the bus we had come in. Not Brentford but... but...

We turned and ran down the stairs, across the courtyard and out through the castle gates.

Jane and the rest were walking towards us. Jane had arms linked with... with Cam!

Cam looked at us but gave no sign of recognition. We walked towards them. Nothing. We were so close but Cam didn't even blink and just stared straight ahead. So we did the same. Maybe that was Cam's plan: we couldn't acknowledge one another. We walked on, slower and slower, back to the cars, feeling dead inside.

We turned to look back. Mint Ubu had come out of the castle and was talking with Jane and the group. They were turning round, heading back this way making a lot of noise. Laughing.

What were we supposed to do now? How was Cam with Jane? Why were they laughing together? We were managing to feel jealous of both at the same time.

We wondered about our two brains. Were they actually separate? We had always known that we were the back up to the talkative one and beyond the fact that this brain had known about the other and kept a secret about knowing Mint Ubu and delivering the parawing we had always been happy with that. Occasionally having chats with some folk like Ben when the moment arose, when the other we was too pissed or stoned to talk.

No, we decided, this was nothing to do with two brains. We, us, the two of us, we just wanted Cam and Jane to ourselves. Or a least until we decided that Jane was in fact a pain in the arse. Did we really think that? No, Jane had her faults, we all did (we had two brains for freak's sake), but she was kind and brave and fun, so what could be better than that? Cam maybe?

Which were all strange things to be worrying about when Cam was walking towards us but pretending not to have recognised us and Brentford was probably in some trees nearby having just killed a soldier.

We didn't know where to look, what to say or what to do. So we looked up at the night sky and tried to count the stars. There were a lot more here than we could see down at Treetops. There was the Plough, Ursa Minor, then Cassiopeia, quite a good view really.

"Felix?" it was Mint. "Have you been introduced to Camille?"

The conversation around Mint stopped .

"Hello," said Cam looking straight at us. "You from round here?"

We could see Cam regretting saying it almost as soon as it was out. Or was it a double bluff? We didn't know what to say.

"No," we stuttered, "we're from the Wetlands, we're a Wetter."

"Cam!" Jane shoved Cam. "Are you being deliberately snobby?"

"Yes, Cam," said Mint. "Please don't say you have a problem with Wetlanders."

Cam looked round open mouthed.

"Oh, God, No, so sorry. I... er just didn't recognise the accent and thought maybe it was local or something. We don't hear many accents up at the Lodges."

"The Lodges?" we asked.

"When the sea rose round Sutherland, north Scotland," Mint explained. "Most, well, all the towns round the edges of the Highlands, on the coast, were flooded, so the folk moved inland and higher up, setting up new towns round the only places left: often the old hunting lodges. They were well connected for water and electricity so these communities sprang up around them."

"Sorry," said Cam, smiling apologetically. "I'm a teuchter, what can I say."

Everyone laughed and so did we. Cam was a genius at all things, but this took the biscuit. We so wanted to ask how Cam got here. We stuck our hand out.

"Felix," we said, "Wetter."

Cam shook it.

"Camille. Teuchter. Nice to meet you. Going anywhere?"

"We're not sure. We were in hospital until a couple of hours ago." We turned to Mint, and made a quizzical face.

"Well, you're up now aren't you. We'll find you a room at the dorm. It's for our college students but there should be space."

"Come on!" shouted Sam from the van. "Let's get home. It's getting late and you lot need some beauty sleep."

We got into the van. Mint sat up front with Sam and we crowded into the back. Jane sat between Cam and us.

"So," said Jane, "you've been to see the Prince, hob-knobbing with royalty."

"Well," I said. "There certainly were a lot of knobs there. So that's partially true."

Cam leaned forward to look at us.

"What did they want with you?" Cam asked.

"We were just a specimen to look at and poke with a stick." We replied shrugging our shoulders. "They were an unpleasant bunch."

"That's our glorious leader!" Someone called out from a seat in front. There was laughter. "Off with your head."

"Did you get to say anything?" asked Cam.

"Yes," said Jane, "didn't you want to ask him for help? Wasn't that the plan?"

"We did, we tried." We felt our throat tighten again. We could see concern on both their faces. "We... er, but the Prince wasn't, it wasn't going to, not something that the Prince was going to do. It goes against the money. We're not... our lives are not important, we're just mutants. It would be be best for the Prince if we were all dead really. We're an embarrassment."

"He actually said that?" asked Cam.

"No," we replied, "but yes, that's what the Prince meant."

Cam leant over Jane and held our hand.

"Sorry."

Jane gave Cam a funny look but held our hand too and then put an arm round us both, pulling us down onto Jane's shoulders.

"Bunch of useless fuckers anyway." Jane muttered. And we drove through the night back to Aviemore, the others laughing and joking around us.

Sam's driving was calmer now, it felt like we were floating back to Aviemore. We were half asleep on Jane's shoulder.

"I'm sorry I was angry earlier." Jane whispered.

"S'OK," we whispered back. "We are quite annoying. It's a gift."

"You don't have to give it all the time."

"Just naturally generous."

Jane began stroking our hair.

"Bampot."

But all the time a part of us was aware that Cam was sitting just there. A part of us wanted to swap seats and sit by Cam. The affection starved were so greedy.

Jane slapped the back of our head.

"We're here."

We sat up and out of the window we could see the dull rectangle of a three storey building. Sam shooed us out of the van. Mint called to one of the group to sort us a room, then they drove off with barely a wave from the window.

We were led into the building and up the stairs and along a passageway. Slowly the others disappeared into rooms. Jane and Cam went into a room with a quick 'goodnight', and we were put in a room by ourselves.

There were two single beds, one against each wall, a desk and a chair, and a sink in the corner. There was running hot and cold water, electricity and clean bedding.

We undressed and cleaned ourselves in the sink. Then, unsure what else to do, we pee'd in the sink too. We pulled back the blankets and slid into bed. Then after lying in the moonlight for a minute, got up and closed the curtains.

Tomorrow, we thought, tomorrow we would try and have a word with Cam. And maybe, maybe what? Find Brentford? See what the freak Brentford was up to?

Maybe blow up the castle? Get rid of the Prince and those awful people who seemed to control everything? But how the freak could we do that? And would it make a difference? Wouldn't there just be an endless supply of creeps who wanted to own everything, control everything?

Maybe it was time to give up and head home?

We pulled our knife out of the pile of clothes on the floor and tucked it under the pillow. That was more comfortable.

Chapter 8  
Come An Eilein

Enid drew back the curtains.

"How many hours was that?" I asked groggily.

"Four hours I'm afraid," replied Enid, handing me a cup of hot water with a lemon slice. The lemon was half the size of a normal one, but then our greenhouse got less than half the sun of a normal lemon tree. It was a miracle we managed to grow them at all this far north. The greenhouse was one of my guilty pleasures, one of my few ways of having a bit of me time. But I hadn't been there for weeks, so the company gardener took care of it, like so much of my life: designated.

I looked at the clock, it was the back of eleven.

"Not much of a lie-in if I don't make it to midday." I grumbled.

"It's your fault; you got in so late," Enid answered, laying out clothes for me, a nice selection.

"How is Felix today?" I asked, suddenly remembering the girl in the ragged clothes, who had filled the car with the smell of blood and dirt.

"Doctor says she's getting better every day. One brain's recovering, the other is fine. The bullet was small, went in at an angle, barely bruised a lobe, skidded across the top and got lodged back in the skull again. Lucky hit."

"And she's definitely two brains but one person, no split personalities, that sort of thing?"

"They're not sure, but it seems so, yes. It is just a back-up brain. Quite Doctor Who-ish really."

"Is she awake?"

"They're still wanting her to rest, sleep for a bit longer, they've filled her up and knocked her out, though they say she takes a lot more drugs than normal to get her to sleep."

"Got to knock out two brains I suppose."

"Yes, but that's not why I woke you Mint."

"Oh? So why have you woken me?"

"The Evangelicals, they've started."

"What!" I was wide awake now. "What? The Clappers! That's a year away at least, months anyway. Are you sure?"

This was very bad news. We weren't ready. The backup plan wasn't ready, the backup of the backup wasn't even thought of. Jesus!

"Yes," said Enid, calm as ever. "It seems they didn't stop after taking the Cotswolds but just kept on coming. The Wetlanders are getting wiped out and are running north. The Scientologists are on the move too. The whole lot are going to arrive in South Topland anytime now."

"How soon?" I asked reaching for my dressing gown and heading for the shower. "I can't hear you, shout!"

Enid came into the bathroom. I could see her figure through the frosted glass.

"We think the Armageddonists have just taken a Topland island to the west of here, place called Loggerheads. It went quiet a few hours ago."

"Could it be an accident, cut cable, radio malfunction?" I shouted back.

"Yes, all those things. But it's not. It's the Evangelicals."

"How do you know?" I asked.

"We caught their message back to the Americas. Usual nonsense about God's Will, you know what they're like, but they've taken Loggerheads."

"Why are they moving so fast?" I asked, stepping out of the shower and drying my hair with a second towel.

"We're not sure," answered Enid turning away as I put on my underwear. "But they seem to think it's important for them to do it quickly. Like it's a race with the Scientologists."

"Why? We've got nothing. What could they want?"

"We're not sure, but they're certainly both interested in Felix's parawing."

"How the hell do they know about that!" I sat down on the end of the bed as I put on my shoes. "I suppose they got it out of Felix's Wetlanders down south. Poor sods. Jesus."

Enid was silent. She didn't like my swearing. I didn't like my swearing, it wasn't really ladylike. But then I wasn't really a lady was I? Just a sparkie's daughter from the rough side of Aviemore. All sides of Aviemore were rough. Actually they weren't really rough. Just small town Scots, with an overdose of tongue-in-groove chalets for cheap skiers.

Bollocks those effing Happy Clappers! Armageddonists and nationalists was the terrible mix that got us here in the first place.

"What about SANITY?" The South African Nations International blah blah. They hadn't ever told me what the T and the Y stood for. I suspected they didn't know yet. But they were the most organised group on the planet at the moment. And not bonkers, which was such an added bonus it made me well-up each time I thought of them. They were the nearest thing we had to a United Nations, though the nations consisted of the twenty or so African states on or south of the equator. India and South America were on the verge of joining. Australia was 'thinking about it'.

Enid gave me a look. She meant: do I really want to make that call?

To bring in outside help could be, would be, seen as traitorous by Prince John. Foreign help and non-white at that! I would be shot. Though he had a point. I suspected the first thing SANITY would want would be regime change. And to be honest, that's what I wanted too. But regime change only worked if everybody here knew what they wanted to replace the current regime with. And I was not sure I had that ready.

Touring bands, pirate radio stations and Tor exit nodes only worked so fast.

"Where's Gina?" I asked. "I need to know how we're doing in Scotland. And book me in to see Felix. If I can find the parawing I may be able to tempt Africa to come up here."

"I'll see what I can do," Enid replied, pointing to my tray with it's bowl of porridge, nuts and date syrup, "now eat. I'll be back in a minute."

Enid left the room.

In those films where serious people plan deadly stuff that changes the world, they talk and then a hunky male says he has a plan and he tools up with loads of guns and clunking noises that always sound like someone's making a lot of toast. I didn't have that. I had some clever kids who liked computers, a dad who liked putting wires together and a Wetter with two brains. And I had to save the world with this lot. Or save Scotland anyway.

Porridge in: time to knock up a batch file. I went back to the loo.

A few minutes later I was out again, a few pounds lighter. I hoped Enid stayed away for a minute or two longer. I thought about lighting a candle but that would make it more obvious. Anyway, she had to be used to it by now.

I suspected my brain was trying to avoid the issue.

Enid knocked and walked in. I couldn't help notice her raising an eyebrow at the smell, ever so slightly.

"Gina's on her way. Felix will be awake in an hour or so. There's a meeting of Scots Wa'Hey at two and you've got the Prince this evening."

Damn, the Prince.

"OK, good, thanks, right, can you find out any more about the Clappers'n'Scats?"

"I'll try."

There was a knock at the door.

"Come in Gina," I said as my rockstar niece came in, looking so cool and so young and so, well everything really. But then she was rather special. The lead singer of one of the few touring bands in Scotland, an all girl band, one that played music that quite possibly they shouldn't (I had asked not to be told the truth, so I wouldn't have to lie), and she was totally a spy. My spy in fact. Fifth columnist, insurrectionist, everything that my worst enemy thought of me and Gina and the band was all true. But they couldn't quite believe it, so it was the perfect cover.

"Hi Auntie," said Gina heading for my breakfast tray and picking at the remains.

"So," I said, lying down on my chaise longue by the window. I'd moved on to a cup of coffee now. "Sorry I've not had a chance to chat since you got back. Good tour?"

"Yeah," she said with a knowing smile. "Pretty good. Pretty damn good actually. Sold out all the way and flogged a lot of t-shirts and stuff.

"And thanks for sorting out Jane," she went on. "That Priest was a right shit, always there taking notes. I didn't think he would actually try and grab someone though."

"No," I agreed. "I think that was a mistake. But it goes to show quite how far up their nose you were getting. Which is great. And probably shows how well the message was getting across to the kids."

"Kids? Really?"

"Sorry, your audience."

"No, but you're right. They're getting really pissed off now. And talking to them, I think their parents are too, well, probably always were to be honest."

"And the Buy-in kids, sorry, families, groups whatever?" In the past, non-Scots were called incomers, usually English, always wanting to change stuff which was either great or really annoying, and they nearly always had more money. But then, when the Flood happened, Prince John had all these rich folk buy their way into the country. Incomers were pretty well instantly forgiven when the Scots found out how even more annoying this new bunch were.

"Well, Jane's a Buy-in down south but she's alright. Don't think she sees eye to eye much with her folks. So yeah, I think most would kind of prefer there not being some fat shite on a throne, surrounded by a bunch of uncaring wankers we could all do without."

"Well that's certainly one way of putting it." I said with a smile. She was so cocky but why the hell not? Enjoy it while you could. "And you got the feeling that that was the view all over Scotland and down south in England too?"

I mean South Topland but most of us still saw it as England and Scotland.

"Yes. Everyone's sick of life here and sick of knowing what their parents let happen, the murder they committed. The Trident shit they pulled." Gina did get very angry about this very fast. I could too, and I was there, I remembered it. But at the same time, people make awful decisions in awful times. I pictured Commander Colme as a young lieutenant in that infamous Trident submarine. Quite suddenly I felt sorry for her.

"So, if things were to change abrutly here in Aviemore, what do you think your kids, the youth, sorry that's almost worse isn't it, what would the Scots think about that?"

"Totally one hundred percent fine, absolutely."

Gina was getting excited now, while I'm thinking: so, about forty percent support, forty percent don't know and don't care as long as there's peace and work, and twenty percent anti. Maybe.

"Hang on!" Gina was striding round the room, and then she stopped. "Hang on, do you mean now now?"

I kept a straight face, totally froze it actually.

"No," I answered, "not now now, but now soon, months to years maybe. Maybe."

"Oh, OK," she deflated. "Yeah, the longer it all goes on, the older the old fucks get, they'll die off and we're all for it."

I had to push a bit further.

"But if the Scientologists suddenly tried to take over the country what would happen then? Or the Evangelists?"

"The Scats! Fuck them! That would be even worse, absolutely every last motherfucker would be out then." She turned to me. "But that's surely not happening? The Scats? The Happy Clappers? Come on! What the fuck?"

Gina was laughing now and went back to raiding my breakfast tray.

What the fuck indeed. So, after a slightly informed straw poll of Gina and now I was ready for a takeover? I doubted it. But maybe Enid was wrong and the two Americas were not on their way. Maybe we actually had an army that worked and not just a bunch of the old and the unemployable. Mind you, that was a bit harsh on that Commander Colme. She seemed able.

Enid came back in to shoo Gina out. Gina gave me a kiss before she left.

"I really want to play the Scandies or Iceland." She whipered in my ear before skipping out the door.

"I know, I'll see what I can do, but got a lot on." I called after her.

"No probs," she shouted back, "whenever, s'later Auntie."

Enid watched her walk down the passageway before closing the door.

"What!" I exclaimed, I knew Enid's looks.

"Well, she's not exactly reliable. She just likes the idea of all of this. She exaggerates. Everything's a hundred and twenty per cent."

"That's kids for you, but the idea was to find out the state of the Topland mind and spread ideas that there may be another way of doing things. And from what I've seen on the internet she's done a damn good job. She is the star of Topland at the moment, as far as the under twenties go anyway. She points and everyone looks in that direction."

"Fair enough, but that doesn't solve the Scat/Clapper problem," answered Enid, ever the pessimist, or realist.

"I wish I knew why they were so interested in us suddenly. Are they just bored of the peace in the Two Americas. What's their problem?"

"Have you read the books?" asked Enid. I guessed she meant the first Scientology novel, whatever it had been called, not the Bible.

"Come on!" But I had, when I was a teenager, the first one, until I found the card inside and realised it wasn't a book but a cult marketing tool, then I had binned it.

"Exactly," said Enid. "It could say anything. Invade Scotland on Tuesdays. Who knows? It's a nutty cult that does nutty things."

"They all do." I muttered back. But not too loud, Enid's parents were Wee Frees. Religions... all nut jobs, all cults, even when they got big enough to call themselves religions. Apart from Pastafarians, they were funny.

"Felix?" I asked.

"All ready, Sam's downstairs."

"Let's see if she's got anything else to say." We set off out and into the electric Range Rover.

It was strange driving round Aviemore. Once a muddy ski resort, now it was a capital city. It didn't really look much different, but now the town had two different inhabitants: the visibly rich and important government types, most of whom had bought their way in during the Flood and were close to Prince John, and the rest, mainly Scots, who seemed almost invisible, going about their day much as they had always done. Not that the Scots were necessarily of Scottish descent. I was half Italian. Scots were a wonderful mix and always had been.

And here was our hospital, the New Raigmore. I went up to Felix's room. Jane was already there, as I had asked her to be in case Felix had anything of interest to say, but also, you know, if she had woken and needed a friend. Felix was asleep, or unconscious.

"Everything OK here?" I asked. Jane looked up from where she sat by the bed and gave me a sleepy smile.

"Yes, fine Mint. She's slept all morning. The nurse is half expecting her to wake up."

"Good," I said and took a chair on the other side of the bed.

"Thanks for the job, by the way," said Jane a bit sheepishly.

"That's OK, I need someone here, so who better?" Jane nodded.

"Has she said anything?"

"No, not really. Sometimes she calls out, asks for Leicester."

"Leicester? Him again. The one with the mystery parawing?"

"I suppose so. There can't be many folk called Leicester, can there? I mean, I don't know much about Wetters, Wetlanders. But I mean, yes, Leicester."

I kind of knew what she meant. Leicester was Leicester and where the hell was he? I had checked the name as best as I could when we first got back to Aviemore but it seemed, after the initial break-in when two had been killed, no one else had been caught or killed since, Would we have to show the bodies to Felix? See if one was this Leicester person. Or had Leicester survived? And if so where the hell was he? If this parawing technology was what Bill and Ben were implying it was, then it would be a pretty big bargaining chip in the coming days. Maybe not enough to keep the Two Americas away but enough to elicit some help from someone.

I didn't know. It was all up in the air and about to come crashing down.

"I think she's waking up," said Jane. "Here she comes."

I leant forwards and watched Felix open her eyes slowly and roll them towards me.

"Hi Felix, can you hear me?" I asked. There was a shift of recognition across her face. "Can you hear me?"

"Mint Linux?"

"Ata girl. How are you feeling?" Well, what do you ask someone with a hole in their head? But then she was gone again, asleep.

I sat back and looked at the ceiling. It was sort of relaxing to be here, not really able to do anything work-wise, just sit and wait and think. Maybe even daydream if I was lucky.

I could just get the family onto a boat and head over to Norway and settle down to some peace and quiet. But it just wasn't my way, nor my Dad's. No, we had to stick it out and make the best of it, come what may. Tap. Tap, tap tap. Oh what the...

"Jane!" I said, a bit too sternly maybe. She looked up guiltily.

"What are you doing?"

"What?"

"Are you on your phone?"

"I'm looking up brain damage. If you don't mind." Cheeky! Teenagers!

"Please stop now. And turn off your phone, and put it away for goodness sake."

"What? Why?"

"How many times do I have to tell you lot, please don't use a phone near me, things can be turned on and we get filmed and recorded and all sorts, please don't. And for that matter don't look up medical conditions, are you using a normal browser? Not a Tor browser of some sort?"

"I don't know. I just did a search in the box."

"Oh my God. Please stop. You just told everyone, that you or your family or someone you know might have a medical condition, so your and their medical insurance will go up or at least be marked for that. Secondly, the Scottish Recording Centre up here will now know where you are and will have turned on your microphone to listen to this conversation and be videoing it too for all we know. Turn it off and put it outside somewhere, on the windowledge or out in the hall or something. Just, please, take it away."

Was I paranoid or what? Except I know how to do it to other people, therefore lots of people would be trying to do it to me. Even if it was just to find out my business plans. After all, most spying was economic. And also, possibly, I hung around too many nerds. Fine folk that they were.

"Fine," said Jane sulkily and, with a lot of huffing, left the room.

It was a real problem! No one believed me! I breathed out slowly and looked down at Felix. She seemed to be coming round again.

"Felix?" I asked. "Felix? Are you waking up again?"

Nothing. Jane came back in.

"She waking again?"

"I think so."

"Felix," called Jane holding Felix's hand. "Felix?"

Felix did seem to be nodding her head in time with something.

"Nice," she whispered. Jane gave me a perplexed look. "Felix, we know you're awake."

"So?"

"We'd like to talk to you," said Jane.

"You shot us."

"Oh Felix, sorry, I really am. I didn't mean to, it was the Priest, we were fighting and..." Jane stopped.

"It's OK," said Felix, "so, where are we?"

"We're in a hospital in Aviemore, in Scotland. In a private room." I said.

"OK. That's... far. How did we get here?"

"We were driven,'" answered Jane.

And that conversation went on for a bit, we filled Felix in on head wounds, Jane's guilt, and how Felix was safe and clean and had taken a lot of drugs. We spent quite a long time on the quality of the drugs I must say. I was almost jealous. Imagine just relaxing for a bit without a care.

Then Felix asked what it cost to get into Topland.

"A few thousand dollars or equivalent in gold maybe." I replied. "You would also need to have a useful trade or show you had money to survive. The Prince can't have tramps here you see."

That lead to more questions about how to Wetters could get to live in Scotland but I didn't feel I was getting anywhere. As far as I knew all Wetlanders would prefer to live up here. There was nothing new about that. I decided that Jane and Felix were just going to talk nonsense for a bit and I had more urgent things to do. Even the parawing was starting to feel less important. I told them I would be back later and turned to go when Felix thanked me very earnestly for saving her life, though she said lives, which I probably had, but it was nice of her to realise. Maybe I would come back later and see if we could have a proper chat about the parawing.

I left the hospital and climbed back into the car where Sam was waiting.

"Anything?" I asked.

"Well," said Sam. "We've got another Wetter come up through the Ya-chube, quite possibly got in the same time as Felix. Already got her backstory sorted."

Ya-chube was the Scottish underground. News, goods and people were passed from door to door around Scotland without ever being seen by the powers-that-be. It was often where Wetlanders who had managed to break into Topland were able to get help and eventually appear in normal society as someone's cousin or some such. Data on the Buy-ins was pretty accurate but not a lot was known for sure about the native Scottish population, so it was quite easily done.

"Normal looking?" I had to ask.

"By all accounts, should fit in fine."

"OK, well, bring her to the offices and I'll meet her and see if we can engineer a meet with her and Felix, see if something comes out in the wash."

"Right you are." Sam pulled out of the hospital carpark and drove us to the Linux offices.

"Has Enid been in touch about some activities down south?"

"Oh Yes," said Sam, "she said to tell you: 'They are definitely at Loggerheads.'"

"Fuck." I didn't normally swear and instantly regretted it.

"You all right Mint?" Asked Sam with concern.

"Yes, fine," I lied, "just an argument that's starting to get out of hand."

To put it mildly. We got to the offices and Sam took me through to a small room on the ground floor to meet the new kid: Camille.

"Hi Camille." She was petite, pretty and there was no hint of wetlander about her. She shook my hand.

"Hello Lady Linux. Thank you for seeing me."

"Yes, well watch out for your accent there, still a bit south. Maybe we can...?"

"Yes," said Sam, "we'll think of something, maybe you're from up North, Sutherland?"

Camille nodded: "sure, whatever."

"OK," I said, "Sam will sort some papers for you. In the meantime, get to know a few of the interns around here, practise your story. Don't tell anyone the truth, got it?"

Camille nodded again.

"Good, well done. Well, nice to meet you Camille. I may have something for you to do for me later, today even. In the mean time, take care, don't wander too far."

We shook hands again and I went upstairs to my office. Enid was waiting.

"Took your time."

"New one up Ya-chube. Had to go and meet her."

"Another girl?"

"Yes, is that odd?"

Enid shrugged.

"So, what's up with the Clappers. Got your message about Loggerheads. So it's definite?"

"Yes, had some sightings over the ship-to-shore radios. And Fishermen are seeing armadas of Wetters coming up from the south and they've been talking about the Armageddonists. It's sounding really bad."

"So they didn't stopped at the Cotswolds then?"

"Seems not, just carried on going."

"And they're heading here?"

"Yup, seems so."

"When do we expect them to hit the Walls?"

"Tonight, tomorrow, if they haven't already."

"And we still don't know what they want or plan to do?"

Enid shrugged again.

"It's odd that they've been seen first at Loggerheads. I mean, why come round the side like that. It's not like we've got much of an army to defend with wherever they attack."

"Mint?" Enid turned to me. "What are we going to do?"

"Against the Happy Clappers?"

"Yes, you and I, we can't fight? What are we to do if they get here, to Aviemore?"

"You mean, do I have a retreat planned? No, not really. We take to the Highlands? It's been done before."

Enid looked into my face to see if I was joking. I wasn't, not really. We would take to the hills.

"Cock," she said.

"Cock indeed," I replied, "Got a bug-out bag ready?"

Enid came over and gave me a hug which I started to pull away from but then gave in and returned.

Then we separated.

"Same time next year?" I joked.

"Probably, right, Prince John, dinner tonight, seven thirty for eight, dress: smart."

"Really? I suppose so. Do we know who else is on the guest list."

Enid passed me a sheet of paper, it was a copy of the guest list on the royal letter-headed paper. It was amazing how Enid could always manage to get her hands on these things.

"The usual turds I see. Boris and the boys. Oh! Commander Colme again. Someone to talk to at least. Do we have anything else on her?"

"Beyond the obvious 'Hero of Trident': married well, son of a big family, mother-in-law still alive, next door room at the hospital to Felix actually, children: three, currently on holiday down south. That's a worry, if she doesn't know yet. She left them to join the hunt after the last break-in at Hulland Gate."

"OK, maybe nice if we could trace her family? See if we can help her there? Maybe useful?"

"I'll see what we can find."

"Good, thanks."

"And SANITY?" Asked Enid.

"I don't know. I'm trying not to think about it. No, I have to. But no one is going to thank me for bringing in outside help."

"You may have to do it though," said Enid. "I've not packed my bug-out bag yet. I'm not even sure I know what one is."

"Look, maybe there's time yet. I'll see how things are at the Palace, see if the plonkers can actually do anything. And maybe Colme will have some better view of the military. There's still time. They can't get here that fast."

Enid left my office and I sat down at my desk and pulled a bottle of whisky out of a drawer. It was a bit early but who cared.

I wondered if the Priests could be persuaded to help. Surely they must hate the Two Americas more than us? But I wasn't so sure. The Scandies, well they were nice enough, but they would try to be neutral in these sorts of things. Could I persuade them that they might be next? It would be pretty difficult to prove. Fortress Europe wouldn't care, and anyway their diplomatic corps was basically the Priests (and quite possibly their military as well).

I spent the next couple of hours going over the day-to-day stuff of Linux, the actual business, and got some real work done. Enid came in a few times to talk about things.

Then we went back to the hospital to see if Felix was any better. It turned out she was and had been telling all to Commander Colme of all people! That would give me something to talk about to the soldier tonight.

But more importantly Felix began to talk at last about the parawing though a lot seemed a bit far fetched: they flew underwater! That made no sense. Did it? Then this Leicester person flew off into the distance and they had no idea where he (or she, I suppose, Wetlanders seemed imprecise on the sexes didn't they?) was, or even where he/she was headed. The parawing, though, that seemed real and certainly did sound like it did some pretty amazing things. Could it actually be a Current Multiplier? It did break some fairly important laws of physics but I had looked up what I could and there certainly was talk, before the flood, of a break-through by some British scientists. Admittedly one who was fairly on the outskirts of acceptability. It was, on the whole, good news. It sounded like the parawing existed and it did what it was supposed to do. The only problem now was that no one knew where it was.

I headed back to my flat, changed for dinner and was driven out to the royal castle. When we got there I saw Commander Colme just ahead and caught up with her.

She was in a bad mood and heckled me about the world of business.

The thing was, I had to agree with her, business was a boring waste of life, I would much rather have been doing something else. I didn't say that though and it left me feeling pretty down.

It also reminded me of a school trip I had taken with a group of Bell Baxter S3s before the Flood. We'd gone to North Italy, Tuscany. Before then I had been trained to see the Scottish Highlands as beautiful, but after seeing the hills of North Italy I realised that the Highlands were a corpse, a skeleton, stripped of any vestiges of life. Italy had trees of all varieties to the very peaks and cliff faces, villages, homes and small holdings covered the slopes. Scotland had nothing, barren, a few ruined crofts and rusty fences, owned by who? A few hundred estates owned the whole lot, making what money they could from grouse shouting and stalking. No, Scotland was dead before the flood, why was I bothering to save it now?

And for who? For whom?

The room was full of the Prince's closest allies and friends. I wondered why I was invited. I did get invitations, not as often as this lot, some of whom were here almost every night. Normally I got invited to bigger dos or very private meals when the Prince wanted me to do something particular for him. Looking round the room I realised that no one would notice if I sneaked off to the toilets and locked the door. It was too soon for the men to start their incessant peeing. I reckoned I had twenty minutes.

The Commander had got me down. I hate to admit it. It's horrible to think people think you are a careless money-grabbing sociopathic business maniac. My head felt heavy and I disappeared down into the gloom, letting myself freefall into dispair knowing that, on the whole, I could come back up again.

Or, with a drink and some knobends to take the piss out of, come back fighting.

I wondered how many of Prince John's female friends ended up hiding in this toilet.

After a few minutes I got up and went back to the reception room. Everyone was starting to walk round the table to see where they were sitting.

I looked for the Commander and saw her on the other side of the room. She seemed even angrier than me, which immediately made me feel much better and guiltily so. I felt I had to go and see if I could help.

"Steady as she goes Commander." I whispered in her ear.

"Reading my thoughts now?" She turned to me and smiled. Actually smiled!

"I don't need technology for this one." I said. "You have very demonstrative features. I like that. It's honest."

We watched the butler enter the room and lift a large leather tipped mallet and bang a gong that hung in a frame by the door. It was very loud. The butler must have enjoyed breaking everyone's conversation so forcefully.

We wandered round to our places at the long table. The Commander and I were sitting almost opposite each other.

I watched as she handled the sweaty men on either side of her. I suspected a woman in a uniform, and such a famous one at that, one who could make a hard decision and stick it through to the end, was both terrifying and very attractive to them. The two men, both in oil of course, got very competitive in their boasting: letting it be known they they had had to make hard decisions when the chips were down as they kept saying. Making people redundant, hostile takeovers with little real money, asset striping and selling each other out, all to line their pockets as the oil ebbed and flowed. How they had dealt with difficult foreigners from Scandinavia and Fortress Europe, how they had grudging respect for the Two Americas, one was now an Evangelical, the other a Scientologist. The men got into a rhythm that seemed to match the pair on either side of me as well. In fact I noticed that both the Commander and I were getting a long fine barely having to listen, we just gave an encouraging nod, a smile, a mildy interested 'really' and they would keep going all night. And never once asked a question about me.

They started talking about the old days.

"Brexit," said one of them. Or rather, what I heard was: "blah blah blah blah Brexit."

"Brexit?" I turned to the man who had said the magic word. "Why do you mention Brexit?"

"Best thing that ever happened to this country," he said, he was sweating heavily now.

"Hear hear," agreed the man on the other side of me banging his wine glass a couple of times on the table. "After Thatcher."

"Thatcher?" I had tried to keep quiet. "She killed manufacturing and left a sizeable proportion of the population permanently unemployed. And if you hadn't noticed we don't actually have a country now, we're underwater, our people are dead and a lot of that is because of Brexit: not having Europe to defend the country from the worst destructions of the giant corporations and their anti climate-change views."

"Poppycock," said the man on my left

"Hippy nonsense," said the man on my right. "I'm surprised to hear you say that Linux. Look at you, you've done jolly well out of this.

"How I have done since then is irrelevant. I would rather be a school teacher with everyone still alive than this."

"Well, I don't hear you complaining?"

"I am complaining. I just complained. I have always complained. This," I imagined I waved my arms about, I didn't really, that would be dramatic and Linux did not do drama especially as a businesswoman at the high table of men, "this is a disaster. It's awful. And it could have been stopped if your lot had been stopped back then."

"Our lot as you say, saved this country," said Righty, getting red of face. "We got the Brexit vote we needed and we followed through. Kicked Johnny Foreigner out and got the EU off our backs and out of our taxes."

"Exactly," said Lefty, "we took back control of our country. We made our own laws and we took control of immigration."

"You do remember that that's not what actually happened don't you?" I asked. They said nothing but looked at me as if I were mad. "I mean we were all there. That's not what happened.

"Look," I went on. "the aim of Brexit was to protect the globalised corporations and sovereign individuals from globalised democracy and the organisation of an international tax system. So they funded nationalists around Europe, bunged them a few million so save themselves billions in taxes."

"That's very cynical," said the man on my right.

"How can it be cynical if it's the truth?"

"Because, darling, you're the only one who thinks it's the truth."

"And so what, Brexit happened," said Lefty. Was he Geoffrey? John?

"No it didn't. It was the typical British Fudge. We were out but stayed in."

"That's not what happened," shouted the man on my right. Was he John? "I remember the newspapers: We're Out! We had a terrific party. My parents were singing Rule Britannia."

"Wow," I replied. "Is that irony? I've never been sure. Ever since that song."

"What do you mean?"

"If you hadn't noticed we're underwater, back into the azure main."

"Bollocks. Not that again. It's just the planetary weather cycle."

"But he's right," said the other, "we definitely left Europe. We definitely took back control."

"Well, we stalled immigration of a few years then we nuked ourselves and sank without a trace." I replied.

"Well I never saw a newspaper saying that," said John.

"Nor me," said Geoff huffily. "You're just making it up. And anyway, I'm surprised to hear you say anything against Trident, after all your fellow woman, Commander Colme, the woman that saved this country, is sitting just opposite us."

"Just because she is a woman does not automatically mean I have to agree with her or what she did. And anyway, she was just a young officer who did what any young officer does: follow orders."

"She arrested her commanding officer and pushed the button. She saved our country."

"No, she just saved you."

"Calm down dear, it's just a conversation over dinner. Don't take it personally."

So I picked up my fork and shoved it down through his hand and into the table. Except I didn't. I sat there and smiled.

"You are right of course," I agreed with a smile. "It is just a dinner conversation."

He smiled back.

"Of course I am," He said, "I always am."

"You're not supposed to say that in front a woman." Chirped up Lefty. "It gives them the wrong idea."

"Wrong idea? Surely it's..." But I was interrupted.

"Women like a strong man, decisive, knows what he wants, so when he wants her she appreciates being selected."

"Selected?" I asked. It would be nice to think that this was unusual, but there always was this tendency for men, especially these high-flying types, to extreme honesty as they viewed it, where they didn't hide their thoughts from me and thought I would enjoy their openness, as if I was one of them. But it was really an excuse for them to be even more of a dick. Unsurprisingly.

The meal ground on and I was able to switch off again as the two men discussed women, cars, football, money, watches, bicycles, motorbikes and money again.

At least it was fun watching Commander Colme getting much the same treatment opposite me. Though she was drinking at about twice my rate I noticed, but then... soldiers? That's what they do? And I realised I was generalising as badly as the men around me.

Finally, there was an announcement for the women to leave the room and to allow the men to change seats. The men all rushed up to sit closer to the Prince. All the other women left the room except for the Commander and I.

I went and sat down beside the Colme.

"Do you have to?" she asked as I sat down. I just laughed and laughed until eventually Colme smiled as well.

Annoyingly the Prince noticed and interrupted us before we had barely started but we managed to shoo him away.

After we had finished being badgered by the Prince I asked the Commander: "Are you the most powerful woman in the military?"

"Yes," she replied, hardly listening to me but eyeing the crowd of men at the other end of the table. Then she turned round to face me. "Sorry, yes, I suppose I am."

"Are you the most powerful person in the military?" I followed it up.

She gave me a funny look as if she wasn't sure how to reply.

"I am in command of a lot of rather powerful nuclear warheads," she replied hesitantly. Which triggered something in me.

"They don't work! Really?" It seemed the Commander had had enough to drink to actually look a bit flustered and I watched her calm herself and mentally straighten her jacket.

"I can neither confirm nor deny your suggestion that the nuclear weapons do not work."

"Wouldn't it be better to just say they work rather than go all Glomar on me?"

"Oh bloody hell Linux, they work, they explode, we're just not a hundred percent certain they will go anywhere before they explode."

"Failure to launch?" I asked. She nodded.

"Because the submarines aren't really going anywhere either are they?"

"Well you know yourself the new Trident subs weren't ever finished and the old ones are close on a hundred years old. What do you expect?"

"Is that why you're not on them anymore?"

"No one's on them. We're quite close to them. I mean I go onboard every now to see how bad it's got."

"In an NBC suit?"

"Too right. Well, almost. At least the suits are younger than the subs."

"Does the Prince know this?"

"Of course, but what does he care? He's one of the few Head of States that's still got nukes. That gives him a bit leverage."

"I suppose," I said. "Tawny Port?"

"Go on then," she said. "And thanks for rescuing me back there, with the Prince. I owe you one."

"Nonsense. Just call me Mint hey?"

"Mint," she said as if trying the word out.

The men were getting rowdy. They seemed to be looking at something on a small screen.

"Some things never change do they?" Asked the soldier.

"No," I said, "but change is coming. What can I call you?"

But she didn't hear.

"Really?" she replied, "I don't see it ever changing."

"You said your best soldiers were women." I pointed out

"Yes," she said, considering the thought.

"So are mine. The men are... sloppy. Not all of them, but so many." And then we were interrupted by the Prince demanding to see Felix. I tried to put him off but in the end had to send for her.

Then the Commander and I had rather a nice chat about the Prince and spying and Felix and business and what-not until Felix arrived looking, well, less stoned than she had done which was something I suppose.

Prince John got very excited and pranced up and down, even more rude than normal, and I could see Commnader Colme beside me tensing as if she thought she would have to leap in and pull poor Felix off him. Which then of course had me thinking about what would happen were Felix to kill the Prince then and there. I mean things wouldn't go well for Felix, but what would be the outcome for the country?

But, I had taught quite a few things at High School all those years ago, history being one of them, and one obvious outcome to regime change down through the centuries was that it was always a stinking bloody mess, even when there was a plan.

So I was glad Felix resisted the urge and glad Colme was there as well, just in case.

After a bit the Prince got bored, as he always did, and stopped pestering Felix, though I did like it when she pulled out her knife. (Though why had none of my team thought to check Felix for weapons beforehand? Surely there could be a friendly way of doing that? But then who does carry enormous knives on them nowadays? Wetlanders I guess.)

And then Colme suggested to Felix that they go for a walk which was really nice of her. I was warming to hcommander, I really was. Both of them really. They were quite alike in fact.

When they had gone I sat for a bit sipping my port. A Minister I knew, Justin Jackson, waved me over so I moved down and sat on the outer edges of the Prince's circle.

Justin was Minister of Development and we had worked a lot together.

"Hi Justin, what's the craic?"

"Not a lot. Oil prices, naughty photos, your pet Wetter, the Evangelicals have been making threats, saying they wont help us if we don't help them."

"Help them with what?"

"Not sure. It's very hard because everything's interspersed with hallelujahs and out breaks of speaking in tongues. Can't stand still. And that's by email: the words jump up and down and there's audio of prayers and stuff. So who knows. Whisky?"

"No, you're all right. I think I'm going to head out and get a breath of fresh air."

"All right. S'later." We nudged shoulders and I left and got out into the open air just in time to see Felix run out the gate followed by a loitering Colme.

"What is your first name Commander? I hate calling you Commander. I know I know, it's written down somewhere but I've forgotten. What is it again?"

"Jennifer. Jenny. Jen. J-Pop to my children."

"Nice. I'm definitely calling you J-Pop. OK perhaps not out loud, but in my head. Whenever we meet that's what's being printed out behind my eyes."

"Very visual way of trying make me feel uncomfortable then?" Said Commander Colme, Jen.

"It's one of my many abilities. So, where's Felix off to in such a hurry?"

"Not sure. I think she saw friends, your crew on the causeway."

"My crew?"

"Well, you are so down with the kids aren't you."

"I am, actually. Finger on the pulse and all."

My crew began singing as they walked across the royal causeway, of course it was 'Come on Eilein'. It was almost embarassing and almost hilarious. I turned to Colme.

"Where are your family at the moment?"

"Down South, a holiday in the mist. Lots of horse riding and staying up late I believe."

"Lovely, and your husband does it all?"

"Yes. Have you been checking up on me?"

"Yes?" I said with comedy fake nervousness. "Haven't you me?"

"Yes."

"Got anywhere?" I asked.

"Parawings?"

"Oh well done! Don't suppose you know where they are though?"

"Leicester's got them hasn't he?" Wow!

"Wow! You're bang up to date. Felix couldn't control herself today could she?"

"Good with a knife though. And managed to keep it in her pants."

"Most of the time." We both laughed.

"His face was brilliant though."

"Wasn't it."

"Oh, oh, oh dear." I watched Felix walk past Camille. Had they recognised each other? I wasn't sure.

Jen and I watched the kids turn and head back to the minibus.

"I had better go. Big day tomorrow." I said.

"Really, anything I need to know about?" Asked Jen.

"Probably," I replied, "maybe see you soon, it was nice chatting."

"Yes, hope so," and I watched Commander Colme, J-Pop, turn and head off to the military camp.

Then she stopped and turned round to face me.

"We just have to try our best and understand the problems, be involved, take part." Then she smiled. "But its so embarrassing having opinions."

She marched off, and therfore didn't see my puzzled expression. I wondered what she had just been thinking.

I got into the bus with all the others and we headed back to Aviemore. There was a lot of giggling and chat in the back but I was too tired to pay much attention. Though I did notice that Felix and Cam were sat on the same row. Did they know each other? I felt they did.

Later, I got back to my room, cleaned myself up, creamed up and crawled into bed wondering what the hell was going to happen tomorrow.

I dreamt of nukes.

Chapter 9  
Fill That Tube

It was probably nine or ten o'clock in the evening before they finished eating and started the serious drinking. It was like watching an old movie at Bill and Ben's about pirates, but with baddie pirates not goodie pirates like Erol Flynn.

One of the Mugs sitting close to Trumps reacted suddenly and pulled a phone out of a pocket, read the screen and passed it to Trumps. Trumps stood up and moved away from the group, closer to us.

"Yes, yes I sent a boat after it... No I've not seen any Armageddonists today though it looks like all the Cotswolds have fallen. Yes of course I've got it under control, I've got three wetters here who know where he went. No I've not had a chance to ask yet." Trumps turned and glared at us.

"No," he went on, "I have other business interests to attend too as well... OK. Right. Sure."

Trumps ended the call.

"I'm connected. Important friends that need me." Trumps waved the phone in our face.

"Are you sure that was even working?" we asked. "You were just talking to yourself weren't you?"

"You know, talking like that don't make the Trumps respect you, you know. I don't respect you for your cheek. It just makes me want to hurt you, hurt you..."

"Don't say 'real bad'!" We interrupted.

Trumps stopped and gave us a smile.

"Oh you're something special aren't you. We'll have to think of something beautiful for you. Something tailor-made. But I have one of the highest IQs in the world, if not the highest, so I doubt that will be a problem for the Trumps. You just have a good think about that, if you can, with your fishy brain."

We had just about cut through the rope tying our hands behind the pole but Trumps stepped back out of reach. So, we were too late to try to stab the knobend this time. Though we wondered what we could try with Cam and Brentford immobile and in the hands of the Mugs. Still it was another option. One that did not rely on either Stamford or Leicester.

Cam was giving us a 'what the freak are you playing at winding up Trumps, you'll only make it much much worse when they start doing whatever it is they plan to do' look.

A lot of information from one look and a slight stab of the head, but we think we read it right. We checked our trousers to make sure it wasn't something else and then smiled back at Cam. Cam's head shook and Brentford looked at Cam and us questioningly and began to speak but a Mug sitting behind them cracked their heads together sharply.

"No chatting, wetters," said the Mug.

Brentford rolled eyes and bit a lip. Cam sneaked another look up at us.

Yes, we thought, it would be handy if Stamford were to start something soon.

It was dark beyond the campfires now, dark and misty. Trumps stood up and waved to a group of Mugs. They carried in a step ladder and a large tube of clear plastic, sealed at one end.

When the rest of the Mugs saw this there was a loud cheer.

Trumps turned around waving his arms in the air to quieten everyone down.

"Now!" Trumps shouted, "you all know my fondness for watersports."

There was a huge drunken cheer.

"And I sent out the message this afternoon, didn't I?"

"Yes!" shouted the Mugs.

"So you're all rarin' to go?"

"Yes!" roared the Mugs again.

"All ready to toe the line?"

"Yes!" the crowd shouted a third time.

"So lets Fill That Tube!" There was another great roar from the Mugs and we only had a second to hide our little knife before we were untied from the post, without, thankfully them noticing that the rope was almost cut, and we were lifted and slid into the tube. Then the tube was pushed upright again and tied to the post. This was followed by a group discussion as quite how many bricks should be dropped into the tube for us to stand on. The bricks were heavy and caught our knees and toes as they were dropped into the tube. Finally they decided they had the height right: our nose was below the top of the tube, our eyes were just above.

Trumps came over to us.

"Have you worked it out yet fish boy. You see how you're gonna die? Do you know who's piss will be the one to kill ya? I've been saving mine all day. Oh it's a flood. My bowels are full of it, I'm so full of piss and shit I could explode. But! I'm saving it all for you boy. Let's see what a fish in shit looks like."

Trumps turned back to the crowd.

"I've got a flood in my pants." Trumps yelled. Brentford and Cam looked at each other. "I've been saving myself for this young gent. Holding back. Man, I'm desperate but I can hold on. Can you hold on too?"

There was more cheering and clapping. We heard a bang behind us and, craning our neck round, we saw the step ladder leaning against the post that held the tube; a long queue of Mugs were lined up behind it. The first Mug was climbing the ladder. We looked up. The Mug stood above us, undid their flies and we looked down and stared at Trumps as we felt a warm wet rain of pee on our head. Trumps smiled as yet another cheer went up. Brentford and Cam looked horrified. Though we couldn't help thinking there was a slight smile around Brentford's mouth, at least at first. And strangely, that made us smile as well. There were, we thought, a great many horrible ways to put someone to death, but this had to be the stupidest. And relatively painless.

Hours passed as were many more liquids, solids and mixtures; Mugs were even forcing themselves to throw up.

It seemed that thoughout the afternoon all of Trumps' Mugs had arrived on the island. There were hundreds of them, maybe even a thousand. And they all lined up.

When the liquid had reached my neck Trumps got up and stood in front of the tube once again. Trumps got very close.

"Say kid, it's really smelly in there. Finding it hard to breathe?"

"It's pretty bad," we admitted. "Though your breathe is worse."

Trumps smiled.

"Glad to hear that kid. Real glad. Almost felt sorry for you there. Now." Trumps turned to the crowd. "It's Question Time!"

More cheers.

"So, Fish boy, can you swim in shit?" That got a laugh. Sadly we couldn't think of anything particularly funny to say to that.

"No answer? OK line up boys." We felt piss on our head.

"Here's a good one. Where did your friend go?" Trumps asked.

"No idea," we replied. More piss, more cheering.

"Where were you headed?"

"Topland," we answered. There seemed no point not telling the truth. And we wanted to see if we would still be pissed on. We weren't.

"Well done! Correct answer!" The crowd booed.

"Don't be like that." Trumps berated the Mugs. "We gotta be friendly."

There was more laughter.

"OK. Next Question: who were you going to see in Topland?" Asked Trumps. And we wanted to have an answer for that but there wasn't really one.

"Everyone?" we replied. Trumps looked at us quizzically. The crowd began a long climbing Wooooooaaaaa. Then Trumps smiled.

"Wrong answer!" the Mugs cheered: "Aaaaaa."

And we felt more pee on our head. The level was climbing up to our chin. We tiled our head back a bit.

"You'd better do better than that." Offered Trumps coming in close. "You won't want to speak soon."

Trumps waved a hand as if brushing away the smell and stepped back from the tube.

"Oh this kid is smelling fresh!" Trumps shouted. "Next question: where did you find the flying wing?"

"You know," we replied. "Right where you found us?"

Trumps nodded.

"You know kid. I thought I recognised you. You were the other one. Not too many look like you do they? One of a kind you might say.

"He told the truth," Trumps continued. The booing started. "But he gets one anyway."

The booes turned to cheers as I felt a turd land on my head and stick there.

"That really only leaves us one question, which I am going to keep asking. And you boys." Trumps turned to Brentford and Cam. "Better have a real good think about what the answer is because you're in the tube next."

"Where?" Trumps turned back to us. "Where is the wing?"

Then Trumps looked up. We looked up too and watched the firework's slow climb into the night sky. Then Trumps looked back down to us and asked:

Except Trumps didn't get the chance.

The heavy machine guns from the silent motor boats opened fire. Their main target was the huge crowd in the middle of the island. One of the first bullets caught the stepladder behind us. It unbalanced the man standing over us who stepped forward onto the rim of the tube. The extra weight snapped the rope that held us upright and we all fell forward on top of Trumps. We held our breathe as we hit the ground and felt the gallons of piss, shit and puke flow past our face onto Trumps trapped beneath us.

We had managed, during the long hours inside the tube, to cut the rope that held our hands again and with a boost from the bricks that pushed us forward as the tube fell over we were already half out and scrambling over the spluttering body of Trumps. When we were fully out, we lay flat beside his head as the Scatologist or Happy Clapper bullets flew over us, mowing down the Mugs as they ran for cover.

We grabbed a particularly solid turd and shoved it into Trumps' mouth. Trumps tried to grab our hand, but we were slippery as shit. We held our hand over Trumps' mouth and with the other hand pinched his nose tight. Trumps had to swallow. Then Trumps began to choke.

We rolled away over a dead Mug towards where we hoped Brentford and Cam were.

They were right where we had last seem them. Lying flat, frantically trying to cut away at their ropes with some glass. We pulled out our bayonet and sliced through the rope.

"Freak! You stink!" shouted Brentford over the gunfire. "This way."

He started to crawl away from the gunfire, their bullets screaming over our heads.

"Not that way!" called Cam. "The Mugs are going that way, their boats are down there. Go right, where it's darker."

Brentford stopped at a body, rolled it over and pulled a black curved-handled knife and sheath from out of the dead Mug's belt.

"Sorry, had to get our knife back."

Brentford turned back and we crawled away amongst the bodies.

When we past the last fire we rose to a crouched run, Brentford barreling into any Mugs who stood in our way.

Then we felt water at our feet and dived in.

We all swam out about twenty metres and then we dived deep. We needed to clean up.

When we came back up about ten minutes later the sounds of fighting had escalated. The Mugs had found their weapons, regrouped and had started to return fire.

The three of us floated in the sea, treading water watching the gun battle light up the night.

"It's kind of beautiful in a way," said Brentford.

"People are dying up there," we pointed out.

"People who shat on you," Brentford replied. "Do you honestly care about them?"

"Not so much, got to say."

"Shouldn't we be swimming out a bit away from this lot? Stray bullets, big boats, general death and all that?" Asked Cam. "And Felix?"

"Yes?"

"Could you go for another swim? You're still a bit rich." Brentford began laughing loudly, followed by Cam and us. Presumably relief was kicking in. It took some time to calm down and it only stopped when a voice said.

"There you are, been looking for you everywhere." It was Stamford.

"Stamford!" we shouted, delighted to see the kid.

"Where have you been?" asked Brentford.

"What happened to the rescue plan?" Asked Cam. Stamford gave Cam a look.

"What rescue plan?"

"What do you mean: what rescue plan?" Shouted Brentford. "You told us to wait while you did something."

"No. What? Oh, the wave. We were just saying Hi." We looked at Cam.

"Well," said Cam, "it gave us hope didn't it?"

"Freak'n freak'n freak'n freak," swore Brentford. "We knew we should have got out while we could."

"There was 'no get out while we could' moment." We pointed out. "It was pretty well shit from beginning to end."

Cam and Brentford started laughing again. Stamford look puzzled until Cam explained. We thought it was time to go for another clean-up swim. Even we were noticing the smell again.

We swam down and took our clothes off and weighted them down with a stone. Then we pulled up bunch of weeds and mud and scrubbed ourselves all over. We came up for a breath and went down again to give our clothes a similar wash.

Half an hour later we rejoined them. They hadn't moved, but the battle had quietened down.

"Hi," said Cam. "Feeling better? We think those boats have pulled out."

"So who are the Mugs firing at now?" We asked, as sporadic gunfire continued.

"Not sure," answered Brentford.

"What we gonna do?" asked Stamford.

"Oh," interrupted Brentford. "Turns out Stamford did have a plan. Tried to set fire to one of Trumps' boats to try to draw them away. But the tinder was wet."

"We were trying to save you. And there was a guard we had to fight. It wasn't nice."

"Ahh," said Brentford. "Well, it wasn't freak'n nice where we were. Had to watch Felix here drown in shit. Knowing it was us next!"

"Hang on. You mean you were upset watching us drown, but were really just worried about yourself?"

"Well, who wouldn't be?" answered Brentford.

"Shh," said Cam. "We're getting loud now. We think we should swim out a bit and get a bit safer."

"We can't tread water all night," we complained.

"Well, we can actually," said Brentford. "It's a damn sight easier than..."

"Drowning in shit. We know," we interrupted Brentford. "Do you think we can find a bit where the ground rises again? A mini island or somewhere we can at least stand. Then we'll tie up the legs of our trousers and make a float so we can take it in turns resting. One of us can stand and hold us together."

"And the eel?" Asked Stamford. We didn't have an answer to that.

"Fuck the eel," said Brentford.

"Fair enough," agreed Stamford, "let's go."

So we spread out and followed the line of the islands from Chipping Norton north west until we finally came to a rise in the ground about a kilometre from the Mugs. It didn't reach the surface but for a few metres it was standable on.

We took our trousers off and tied knots in the ends and tried to inflate them as best we could. Then, lying flat in the water with our legs on the trouser floats and Stamford standing in the middle holding a belt that kept us together, we fell asleep.

Though it did smell a bit shitty, even still.
