Flare

Chapter 39

I dropped the pencil onto the pad and stared at what I’d just written, resisting the urge to tear the page off and throw it onto the growing pile in the bin under my desk. I was writing propaganda, and bad propaganda at that, the thought of the Secretary using my words to cajole the unwilling populace into servitude almost enough to make me physically sick.

Still, I reminded myself, if I finished the day with nothing to show for the hours at my desk I might very well find myself back out in the fields as a not-so-gentle reminder that my position was tenuous at best, so I picked up the pencil and got back to work as Captain Barnes strode past my desk for the fourth or fifth time since lunch.

I slammed the pencil down and stood, heading over to the coffee table and pouring a cup of the strong black liquid. I stirred in three sugars just because I could, then crossed back to my desk and stared down at the half dozen lines that hadn’t yet found their way into the bin.

It was all starting to feel a little unreal, as if I might wake up in the tent next to Emily and realise this had been nothing but a bad dream.

I took a sip of the coffee and grimaced. It had to be real, I thought, not even I could dream up coffee as bad as this.

I looked over to where Emily sat, poring through reports and making occasional notes on a pad of her own. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, but even so her dimples were still in evidence and it was all I could do not to cross over and rest my hands on her shoulders, ease the tension out of her stiff back with my thumbs.

“Writer’s block?”

I jumped, slopping hot coffee across my hand as Barnes appeared behind me, silent as a ghost until he’d spoken.

“Christ, don’t do that!”

“Sorry. You were miles away. How’s the speech going?”

I gestured towards the bin, scalded hand tucked it my armpit.

“As you can see, if there was a prize for starting again I’d be the only contender.”

“I understand. I used to write poetry, you know.”

I stared at the officer, square jawed, broad shouldered and annoyingly handsome in his uniform as he admitted to something that was surely a rather un-soldierly pursuit.

“Really?”

He nodded. “War stuff mostly, but a few love poems here and there too.” He laughed and shook his head. “What a bloody disaster they were.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you been in the army?”

“About eight years. Joined up and they put me through University, then Sandhurst for training. Seen a lot since then, never expected to be watching the end of the world though.”

“It’s hardly the end of the world,” I said, “just not such good news for us. For all we know this has happened dozens of times before and the world just kept going.”

“Perhaps,” he shrugged, “doesn’t help us much either way now, does it?”

I nodded and turned back to my desk, assuming the conversation was over, but Barnes touched my shoulder and leaned close.

“Do you mind if I ask you something?” He said quietly.

“Of course not, ask away.” I was intrigued, Barnes was the last person I expected to be sharing confidences with.

“The Colonel told me that when you and your friend Emily were rounded up, you were travelling up north to find your daughter, and that you’d been on the road for days, is that true?”

“Yeah, pretty much, why?”

He perched on the edge of my desk and gestured for me to take my chair.

“How bad is it out there, I mean really? We hear things here, of course, and there are the reports,” he paused and waved a hand around the room, “but it’s hard to get a proper feel for what’s going on from those.”

I thought carefully before speaking, trying to put everything I’d seen into words.

“It’s bad,” I said finally. “At first it was just a few people looting, those that survived the fires, but then the shops were emptied and people started fighting over what was left. We’d reached Maidenhead before we were attacked for what we were carrying and…,” I looked over at Emily, “other things.”

He followed my eyes and nodded. “That’s what we’re trying to avoid by doing this,” he said, but I wasn’t sure which of us he was trying to convince. “Things might be tough right now, but at least we’ve got some kind of order.”

“Things are a damn sight tougher for those out there.” The words came out before I could help myself and I flinched, waiting for the tirade that was sure to follow, but Barnes only nodded again.

“True, and that’s what…” He stopped and shook his head, then stood.

“Anyway,” he said brusquely, “I’m sure you have plenty to be getting on with, mustn’t keep you.”

He smiled briefly and hurried away before I could say anything else, leaving me with the distinct impression that he was troubled by what was happening here and desperate to talk to someone about it.

Filing the information away for future use, I turned back to my desk and began writing, only to tear off the piece of paper a few moments later and throw it in the bin.

Sighing, I pulled the pad closer and started again.