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North Western Highlands of Scotland, 2061
Sunlight glinted on the sea loch, like diamonds strewn across sapphire-blue velvet. The sun-warmed wind blew across the waters of Loch Ewe, rippling shimmers of light on this summer’s day. Murdo MacDonald squinted against the glare while the wind bristled through his greying beard as he rounded his side of the Isle of Ewe.
His white-washed crofter’s cottage came into view beside him to the left. Further along, opposite his home, a large, narrow dark vessel bumped gently against the white posted pier of the oil depot at Drumchork. The depot had been abandoned for years, its store of fuel long since depleted.
“So there ye are. I’ve been waiting for ye.” He said on sighting the surfaced submarine and gave a sigh of resignation.
Cutting the small boat’s motor, he drifted, staying close to his island and well away from the submarine.
Watching in silence.
The hatch of the submarine opened. A little at first, then gradually to its fullest extent, clanging open on the metal surface of the submarine. A man in a dark-khaki uniform emerged; his bald head and face were red as with severe sunburn. The submariner continued his journey across the vessel’s hull, scanning his surroundings as he went.
Murdo ducked further into the cabin of his small motorboat. He would avoid any contact. His brother had drilled into him the dangers of exposure to radiation. His eldest brother—oh so many years ago.
Behind the first submariner, others followed, their skin a similar red slough, and their slow journeys punctuated by vomiting and short periods of rest.
Murdo’s throat went dry.
So, it had begun.
***
ACHNASHEEN, NORTH WESTERN Scottish Highlands
Rory pulled his stallion up sharp. It was times like this, after climbing the horses up a mountain, he gave thanks for his father’s foresight in breeding from Highland Mountain Horses. His stallion panted and snorted, his sides white with foam, jangling his tack as he tossed his head. Beside him, the creaking of leather saddles told Rory his team had joined him at the summit of Bhienn Fionn, Mount Fionn.
On top of this Munro the peaks of lower mountains surrounded Rory and his crew. The fresh wind blew the grass flat over grey rock covered hills and funnelled its way down to Loch Maree which reflected the bright blue sky and nestled itself between the elevations of the Finnach mountain range. Rory gazed out at this land—his place on this planet—took a breath of the Highland air and smiled to himself. This was where his soul sang. Whatever went on in the wild world out there, he was content to be here—and nowhere else.
Below him was the old village of Achnasheen and the roads leading into it from the west and east. Loch Finnach was to the north. Rory looked past Loch Maree; far in the distance was Loch Ewe, the sea loch leading out to The Minch, the body of water between the mainland of Scotland and the Isle of Lewis.
Aye. An ideal lookout.
“Wow, it’s so clear we can see for miles.” Kendra sat on her horse beside him, her bow over her shoulder and a quiver full of arrows by her side. Her long dark hair tied in its usual plait fell over her weapon. She was astute, amiable and good in a fight. He’d trust her with his back any day.
“Aye. Excellent visual today. It will be here then.” Rory slipped out of the saddle; his father’s long range rifle slung over his shoulder.
The wind caught his dark red hair and blew it across his face. It was long enough now to tie back. He lifted his saddlebags and easily took the weight of the supplies in them. Callum dismounted and followed suit, his gun and knife hanging from his belt. He wore clothing made from cloth woven by the community, soft warm wool or buckskin leather. They all did, as manufactured clothing was a thing of the past and a rarity. Rory regarded his identical twin brother’s tightly cropped hair, vivid blue eyes, and tall muscled frame. They were the same, but not the same. Mandy knew that for certain now.
Things had been strained between himself and Callum, but not for long. A bond like theirs was hard to disrupt, even with matters of the heart. It was eight months since Rory had returned from the past with the beautiful young woman, whom he had rescued from the slave-trade, hoping to have a relationship with her.
But no.
The same, but not the same. Mandy had found her love in his twin.
He brushed all thoughts of Mandy aside and began to focus on the task at hand—setting up a temporary camp in preparation for the construction of a permanent strategic outpost. He and George Stobbart, the head of the Militia, had decided to extend their security due to the persistent raids of the many bandit groups which roamed nearby. They were getting bolder. Another closer outpost would be situated halfway between here and home, the Invercharing Community.
“So, we collect rocks then?” Xian lightly dropped to the ground from his horse, bouncing. Rory was always amazed at the agility of this young Chinese man. He’d taught Rory some Gung-Fu in the twelve months since his arrival to the Community. Rory loved it. Its strict discipline had given him a sense of security and its free-flowing forms in the exercises were relaxing and invigorating at the same time.
Therapeutic even.
He’d needed therapeutic after returning from the past. He often woke in a cold sweat with the vivid memory of his father’s death, as if he was reliving it. Visions of his father holding his mother close, his blood covering both of them, whispering quietly in her ear as his life left him.
Don’t go there now. Focus on the task at hand.
“Aye. We’ll drystone our fort,” Rory answered.
“And you know how to do that, don’t you Rory?” Rory’s younger brother Brendan stood with his head cocked.
“Well, we just copy what’s been done along the road there.” Rory pointed expansively to the road below the mountaintop on which they stood. “Should nae be difficult.”
“My dad always said it was an art form,” Penny piped in. She was a youngster from a local family who had joined the Community appreciating its security and lifestyle.
“We’ll be artists then,” Rory shook his head. He was usually a soldier. And there had been so much people had to relearn since the stock market crashed nearly forty years ago. The ensuing chaos and disruption to twenty-first-century life had removed most modern technology from people’s lives and they had gone back-to-basics. Not ever knowing this technology himself, it always amused him when his younger brother Murray, Brendan’s twin, tried to fix the old broken computers which had originally arrived with the early members of the Community.
They all dismounted and began gathering the grey rocks which lay on or protruded from the ground at the top of this mountain. They would also use the rocks which formed a cairn left by hillwalkers in the past. No one walked hills for pleasure these days.
“Um...” Penny had the binoculars as it was her turn to be the lookout.
“Um what?” Rory’s head flicked toward her at her tone.
Hesitating she looked away from the lenses and glanced at him. Her expression sent some cold to his guts. Dropping the rocks he held, Rory strode over to Penny and grabbed the high-powered binoculars from her hands.
“Where?” His voice was terse, expecting to see riders, bandits. There was nothing.
“Directly ahead.” Penny pointed. Rory followed the line of her arm. A narrow valley ran the other side of Benn Fionn. A long loch sat at the base of the mountain opposite and the valley was cut through the middle by a dilapidated road. Amongst the grass of this undulating glen, lay a blob of darker green, vaguely human in form. Immobile.
“Okay. I need a volunteer to ride—" Rory began.
“I’ll go.” Kendra’s voice floated past his ear as she made her way to her horse and slid into the saddle. “I’ll let you know if you need to come.”
“Keep an eye out—"
“For bandits. I know.” Kendra flicked her long black plait over her shoulder.
As Kendra rode down the mountain Rory turned to the task at hand—dry-stoning. He hoped there wasn’t too much of an art form to it. They needed to construct a walled lookout quickly. They shovelled the area they would build in and dig down to bedrock, which wasn’t far. They would commence their build on this base. Rory soon discovered rocks have a mind of their own and need to fit together if they are going to stay together. Callum seemed to have the knack. After an hour of his brother’s careful choosing and placing of stones, the beginnings of a circular wall had emerged.
“Kendra’s waving.” Brendan had the binoculars. “She wants us to go there.”
“Right, you and Penny stay here. Keep your weapons handy. You guys come with me.” Rory directed the order at Callum and Xian. The fact Kendra wanted him meant it was serious. She wasn’t one to be melodramatic.
They picked their way down the steeper side of Bhienn Fionn and then galloped in the direction of Loch Maree where Kendra now waited on her horse, the khaki-clad form lay in the grass nearby.
Rory slipped his leg over the saddle and jumped off his horse.
“No. Don’t go any closer.” Kendra stayed on her horse. “It’s not good.”
“I’m no’ afraid of a dead body, Kendra.” Rory continued toward the inert human.
“No! Rory, please stop.” Kendra’s tone held alarm.
He stopped mid-stride. “Why?”
“I’m not sure but I think he died of radiation sickness.”
“How?” Rory blinked, trying to concentrate, and not let the implications of this stir up any alarm.
“He’s got no hair. Not even eyebrows or eyelashes.’ Kendra pointed to the man’s face. “And his skin is burned, like really, really, bad sunburn but, well, it’s never that sunny here to cause such sunburn.”
“Why are you standing back?” Callum made to go toward the dead man. “It’s not contagious is it?”
“No! Really. Don’t go any closer.” Kendra held up her hand, signalling for Callum to stop. “He’s radioactive. I think. Oh, I wish Chris was here, she would know more—being medical. And I heard your mother talk about it, a long time ago.”
Callum stepped back to Rory, now both were well away from the dead man.
“He’s Asian,” Kendra said.
“Where’s he from?” Rory asked Xian.
“I don’t know. Why are you asking me?” Xian was defensive.
“Well, you—”
“What? Just because our eyes are the same doesn’t mean we are from the same place.” Xian set his hands on his belt next to his gun holster and his short sword, and briefly raised his eyebrows.
“Sorry.” Rory now tried to peer closer at the body. “Is there a badge on his uniform? It might be a flag of his country. If we had the binoculars, I could—"
“There’s someone up there,” Kendra shouted as she looked toward the cairn at the top of Bhienn Fionn.
Rory spun. A group of figures were upon the peak with Penny and Brendan. They were moving rapidly, and it wasn’t friendly. Heart pounding, he strode to his horse and quickly mounted. He’d left the youngest alone, believing his proximity would be a deterrent to any bandits.
He was wrong.
Callum and Xian had followed suit and they soon kicked their horses to a gallop. They all made their way up to the would-be fort.
The top of the Munro was empty. Weapons and food stores were gone. No Brendan or Penny. Rory’s heart sank momentarily, his mind spinning. He peered down the mountain, over the far side near the cairn. There was nothing.
“They must have gone that way,” Callum voiced Rory’s thoughts. “We would’ve seen them on our way up otherwise.”
“Aye. So down we go.” Without hesitation, Rory kicked his stallion down the steep descent. The bandits had his baby brother and they would not get away with it.
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