British Zombie Breakout: Part Three (9 page)

'Do you have
even one witness?' The Minister leered around the court. 'I covered
my tracks pretty well on that one.'

The judge
glared at the lone figure in the dock. 'Call Agent 51.' Then he
glanced at the public gallery and declared, 'The agent cannot be
identified for security reasons.'

Still no-one
was led into the court but with some degree of ceremony, a monitor
was wheeled in, positioned next to the witness box and a microphone
placed on the bench.

'Agent 51, can
you hear me?'

'Yes,' said a
silhouette displayed on the screen.

'Present your
report if you would.'

'The Minister
was contacted directly by email. How his email address was obtained
by the terrorists, we do not know. However, the Minister believed
he had deleted all of the emails from his account.'

'You all think
you're so clever but you don't know everything,' the Minister said
with a sneer.

Ignoring the
Minister's outburst, the judge said, 'How were the emails
obtained?'

'They were
archived by the service provider and released under the Emergency
Computer Security Act.'

'What was the
content of the emails, Agent 51?'

'The exchange
outlines the entire plot for taking the virus. It began with
negotiation of the Minister's fee for information. Specifically
information on the location of the virus and the computer systems
protecting the Breathdeep Facility.'

'Was the
Minister involved in the taking of hostages?'

'He hired a
freelance communications expert who intercepted certain military
communications, which provided the whereabouts of the fugitives
from Kilkorne.'

'So the attempt
to keep the Minister from obtaining information about the fate of
the fugitives was unsuccessful?'

'Yes.'

'I understand,'
the judge said, 'that a full transcript of the emails cannot be
revealed in court at this time because of certain other information
contained therein, which is covered by the Official Secrets
Act.'

'Yes, that is
correct. I have personally seen proof that the Minister was
directly responsible for the operation in which two groups of
terrorists entered Britain, were provided with helicopters for
taking hostages and for removing the sample of virus.'

A sly cackle
diverted attention to the dock. A look of manic self-satisfaction
covered the Minister's face. 'You'd have organised it yourself for
what I was offered.'

The judge gave
the Minister a cold stare and replied. 'That I very much
doubt.'

'Call this
evidence?' said the Minister, 'I call it hearsay and
tittle-tattle!'

'Minister, only
a moment ago you confessed to these crimes.'

'I merely
stated that you would have done it for the fee I was offered.'

'And that isn't
a confession?'

While the
Minister made no attempt to reply, the judge hammered on the bench.
'Court adjourned until two this afternoon, when verification of
Agent 51's evidence will be given by the head of UK Security
Services.'

That afternoon
a figure known to world media as the most senior officer in the UK
Security Services sat in the witness box and stated categorically
that although the full content of the emails could not be revealed
in court, the substance of them was that the Minister was guilty as
charged.

'My office
holds absolute proof that the Minister provided information to a
terrorist cell, which enabled them to take hostage two young
persons, one of whom was zombie torch inventor Steven Reynolds, to
be held in the event of their not being immediately successful in
obtaining the zombie virus from Breathdeep. I have also been
permitted to divulge to the court, that in addition to his crimes
in the UK, there were indeed further deadly consequences in a
country, the identity of which I am not able to reveal.'

The judge took
several minutes to quiet the court sufficiently for the witness to
continue.

'Through his
actions the Minister caused the deaths of all the terrorists who
stole the virus and a number of civilians; in total, one hundred
and thirty-eight terrorists and civilians. If the virus had been
used as a weapon, the potential consequences are incalculable.'

Even before the
additional evidence provided by the Security Services, the judge
had already prepared his summary. In clear tones, he declared, 'By
your incompetence, negligence and connivance, you have committed
gross acts of treason against the British people and the sole
defence put forward on your behalf is one of criminal insanity. You
have pleaded guilty on a number of charges sufficient to ensure
that you will never again see the light of day.'

'You think I
care?' It was hard to imagine a more disdainful tone.

A wave of anger
surged through the journalists in the public gallery and cries of
'hang 'im', 'murderer', 'take the blighter out and shoot him' were
heard, amongst many other suggestions of a considerably more lewd
and extreme nature.

The judge
hammered furiously on the bench, until finally the roars of outrage
in the court subsided. 'I hereby sentence you to life imprisonment.
Take him away!'

Chapter
18: Kilkorne
Rebuilt

Steve knocked
at Alex's new front door. Her mother opened it.

'Hi Steve,
you're early!'

Steve inspected
his watch and shrugged. He'd walked slowly from his own house but
it was only seven-thirty, with the sun still low and a spring
crispness in the air.

'Well, the
school's open again from today and I thought we could take a walk
round the town on the way there.'

'There's only a
term and a half to go before you're finished.'

'Yes but we've
got all the exams.'

'So don't you
and Alex go distracting each other, I want her getting good
grades.'

'We both need
good grades.' Steve stepped in through the front door and Alex's
mum shut it behind him.

'Take a seat.
Alex will be down in a minute.'

'I'll be five
minutes, mum,' came a familiar voice from upstairs.

On her way to
the kitchen, Alex's mother asked Steve if he'd like a cup of
tea.

'No thanks. I
thought we'd call in the school canteen for some breakfast.'

'Good idea, you
need a proper start, what with all that brainwork.'

Ten minutes
later, Alex waved goodbye to her mother as Steve steered her
towards the harbour.

'Seeing as
we're early, I thought we could go and say 'Hi' to my mum down at
the harbourmaster's office.'

'The local news
said the fishing fleet's due in this morning.'

'I know but she
won't mind.'

The teenagers
fell silent as they walked down the narrow street towards the sea.
Each corner they passed along the way had been the scene of the
death of some poor zombiefied creature that had once been a human
being. More than a third of the historic village had been burned to
the ground and any buildings that had remained intact still bore
the scars of battle. As they passed the front of the Black Lion
pub, Alex reached out and touched the pockmarks where bullets had
sprayed across its walls. After the army had cleaned the place up,
the townsfolk had returned to a scene of devastation. It had looked
like a war zone, where the zombie attack had torn the heart out of
their village.

Being home to
no more than two hundred people, Kilkorne hadn't taken long to
rebuild, all paid for with funds confiscated from the Minister for
Home Affairs. To an outsider, the village would appear to have
recovered its previous vernacular style, evident in the jumble of
cottages, narrow lanes, and the solidly built inns which had served
the local community for hundreds of years and were now more often
frequented by weekend and holiday visitors. The quickest way to
restore the appearance and functionality of the village had been to
build with concrete blocks and face them with the original stone,
which was lying around as piles of rubble. Many of the more quaint
and lop-sided premises had gone, to be replaced by more angular
structures, so that the softness which had resulted from centuries
of creaking beams and weathering was lost.

The fishing
fleet had a home to return to once more. The fish caught during the
breakout had been unloaded at a village along the coast, where
there was no risk of contamination, either from zombie infection or
the chemicals used to destroy their remains. Once Kilkorne had been
cleaned up, the boats returned to their own harbour, with its
charming sea wall built of hand-hewn local stone.

A window opened
on the first floor of the harbourmaster's office and a face looked
down at Steve and Alex.

'Good morning
Mrs Reynolds.'

'Good morning,
Alex, it's so nice to see you haven't forgotten your manners even
after all the troubles.'

Alex smiled to
herself at Mrs Reynolds's euphemism for the zombie attack. 'You're
welcome,' she said, knowing only too well that Steve's mother was
someone worth keeping on the right side of.

'Steven, your
father was out early this morning, with that business he's got up
at the castle, so…'

'No, mum, I
didn't get myself any breakfast.' Before his mother's expression
could change, he added quickly, 'But I'm treating Alex to a bacon
and egg sandwich in the school canteen.'

'Oh, they're
doing breakfast club again are they?'

Steve nodded.
'We'll go straight up there now.'

Alex and Steve
walked hand in hand along the wide paving of the harbour wall. It
was a full two months after the zombie attack on their school and
the fresh smell of the sea blew gently into their faces. They
carried on past the sailing dinghies and turned right at the fish
processing shed where the last zombie battle had been fought. Then
they took the short cut down Fishbone Alley and through the market
square behind the Black Lion. After walking two thirds of the way
around the village, they finally reached the turn style into the
castle grounds at the top of Castle Mount. It was the very place,
where not that long ago they had scrambled through to avoid the
zombies.

Alex gave an
involuntary shiver and rested her head on Steve's shoulder. 'Seems
like only yesterday, doesn't it.'

Steve was quiet
for a moment, then he said, 'You're coming to the raising of the
portcullis after school, right?'

'Of course but
you said your dad already had it back up once.'

'Twice
actually, just to make sure. The big-wigs from Old English
Monuments will be here tonight. And he doesn't want any hitches,
not in front of a TV crew.'

'Should be
useful publicity.'

'Dad said it
was the right thing to do, to give Monuments a bit of a splash,
after we used all their food and blankets and stuff.' Steve turned
and grinned at Alex. 'We might even get filmed as well, as we were
the ones that got the portcullis down in the first place.'

'Only just in
time!' Alex's face darkened. 'Does Rachel know about it?'

'Well, as she's
made a point of not speaking to either of us since we got back to
the village, I haven't had the chance to tell her.'

'She's so full
of herself.' Alex folded her arms and sighed. 'Can you believe the
cheek of her calling us 'the nerdy pair'?'

'Yes, but she
was the one fussing over a pink handbag, while we were doing
important stuff, like making sure we didn't get blown to bits by
the army.'

'I don't care.
It'll serve her right if she misses another chance to be on
TV!'

'You know ever
since I told my mum that school was doing breakfast club…'

'I know, your
stomach's been rumbling.'

Steve nodded
and checked his watch. 'The canteen should be open in five
minutes.' Tilting his head and taking a deep breath through his
nose, he said, 'I'm sure I can smell bacon.'

'Umm, bacon and
egg sandwiches with hot cups of tea.'

'Do you think
the dinner ladies will mind that we ate all their pies?'

'Never mind
that, do you think they found out it was my idea to nick all the
stuff in the van and give it to the army guys so we could sneak out
of the village?'

'Nah.'

'They might
have…'

Steve put his
arm around Alex's shoulders and she moved in close. From the castle
gate, they gazed down across the valley. Although the village
looked much as it always had, they knew that life there would never
be quite the same. Having found each other, they were glad that it
was so.

The End

If you enjoyed this story by
Peter Salisbury, you
can find more by him at:

Smashwords
Peter Salisbury Page

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