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The Scottish Government Bunker, Edinburgh
Siobhan strode along the long white LED-lit corridor, her high heels clicked on the polished concrete floor. Her steps formed a beat, the beat brought a tune to mind, and she began to sing to herself. In the Bunker, they stored music digitally, as CDs had deteriorated years ago. They also listened to live music, played by the musically talented among them, but Siobhan loved the sound of the vinyl records she’d found in the archives—music from the nineteen sixties was her favourite.
Siobhan’s computer was playing up again, so she’d decided a break was in order. She didn’t mind pen and paper, but it never ceased to amaze her how the IT guys kept those archaic machines functioning.
“I’m going for a walk.” Siobhan glanced at the uniformed guard who stood at the end of the corridor in front of the lift. He was so pale, he needed to go up top more often.
“Sorry, Ms Kensington-Wallace. No rides to the top today.” The guard barred the way to the lift.
Siobhan stopped in front of him, eyebrows raised in query. “Who says?”
“Major McLellan, ma’am.” The guard continued his stance in front of the lift.
Unusual. What’s behind this?
It was her custom to go to the surface for fresh air and sunlight often. As one of the higher-ranking inhabitants of the Scottish Government Bunker, Siobhan had special privileges and she made use of this one as often as she was able.
“Very well, then. Can you tell me where Major McLellan is, please?”
“Possibly in the audio-visual room, ma’am.”
Siobhan spun on her heel. She’d get to the bottom of this. The rabble up top had been quiet lately. Can’t be due to them.
Click clack. Motown music floated through her mind again. Singing about not being able to hurry love. Well, she’d been waiting for love—real love—and it definitely was not in any hurry.
Siobhan would find out why they’d banned going up to the surface. She’d wheedle it out of Antony. She was still good at that. Antony seemed to not be able to deny her information. She wondered if he felt guilty over their break-up even though it was two years ago.
You’d think he would be over it by now.
He’d treated her like a trophy in the end; like her good looks and brains and the status she brought were her only importance to him. It had been the death knell. Sure, she missed the sex.
Really missed the sex.
But she couldn’t live with herself if she continued with that man. He was such a prat, and so biased. Her brisk steps continued their beat down the corridor.
Siobhan stopped at the mirror at the top of the corridor where the offices were situated, and tightened her French twist, the usual style for her honey-blonde hair. Hmm. She was glad of her hair tone—hid the grey. Siobhan allowed herself a slight smile of satisfaction. She did look good for forty-seven. She barely had any wrinkles. Living a sheltered life—literally—growing up underground had protected her skin from the aging effects of all year-round weather conditions.
Smoothing her skirt, she entered the audio-visual room where they viewed and stored footage from the drones, shelves and shelves of it. A room very familiar to her. Siobhan came here often, spending hours of her life watching the world up top. A teacher in her high school years had first shown her the room and how to use the equipment and ensured she had permission to go there whenever she wished. Mrs Smith had passed away, as had most of the original Brains Trust seconded by the Scottish Government and sent underground to this bunker when it became clear the world was not recovering from The Stock Market Crash over forty years ago. Her father had been one of them. Siobhan swallowed the lump in her throat. He had passed two years ago, but it still hurt.
“Siobhan, you okay?” Antony turned from the computer screen as she entered the audio-visual room, his brown eyes momentarily bored into hers. Antony’s medium height frame was, as usual, clothed in his Scottish Defence Force uniform. He wore his black hair short, also in keeping with uniform. He returned to the screen, not allowing any time for her to answer.
Siobhan sighed as she followed his gaze to the screen. The visual from the drone showed a mountainous scene, then focused below on the grassy ground. It hovered over a human form.
“Is he dead?” She spoke over Antony’s shoulder to the technician who sat in front of the computer.
“Yes, but that’s not unusual out there,” Antony answered for the technician. He was good at it. “The ferals have a short life fending for themselves. They die of disease if they don’t kill each other first.” His cultured voice, loud in the small room, held his obvious disdain. “But this one is discoloured.”
“Discoloured. What do you mean?” Siobhan stepped closer for a better view of the screen. “He’s bald...?”
“No. He’s...injured.”
“Burnt?”
Antony turned and flicked a glance at her before walking to the door and closing it.
“Siobhan...” He chewed his lower lip as he walked back to her.
“What?” She raised her eyebrows and her hand went to her hip. She hated it when he left her out.
Antony pursed his lips. “There has been some nuclear activity.”
“Explain.” Siobhan was curt, but she wanted the truth.
“Our cousins over the pond, as they say, have alerted us to a nuclear explosion on their turf.”
Siobhan’s heart rocked in her chest as a shiver made its way down her spine. They had waited years for this, hoping and praying the nuclear warheads around the world would stay dormant and unused. One or two had been detonated in the past forty years, but none close, and none at home in the UK. But it was just a matter of time. The government monitored their nuclear warheads and nuclear reactors closely and as many foreign ones they could. Siobhan, having inherited the role of nuclear physicist from her father, kept an eye on this intelligence as head of Nuclear Surveillance.
“And you have known this for how long?” She held back from yelling her question at Antony. Heat rose on the back of her neck with the realisation he would keep this vital information from her.
“We have detected a fallout cloud from a nuclear device detonated over the southern part of the United States, now dispersing and creeping its way northeast.” Antony said. “Our meteorologists are tracking its present course and extrapolating to see if we are in the path.”
“What has this dead man got to do with it?” Siobhan moved closer to the monitor to get a better view. “Where is this?”
The footage continued and now the drone hovered over another body lying face up in the long grass.
“The dead man has nothing to do with the cloud,” Antony spoke into her ear before he turned to the technician. “How many are there?”
“In total about ten, sir. They start at Loch Ewe, and this last one appears to be somewhere near Bhienn Fionn in Achnasheen in the northern Highlands, sir.”
“The man is Asian? Chinese?” Siobhan peered closer. “Am I correct?”
Antony nodded. “Think so. We suspect rogue state involvement.”
The footage changed as the drone moved on. Siobhan’s pulse raced at the view of this freshwater loch and the rugged hills surrounding it. The wind rippled across the loch as birds flew off the water and red deer drank at its edge. Its peace and calm filled Siobhan with a yearning to be there, to touch the cool water. Maybe go for a swim. Then she recalled she couldn’t actually swim. The footage sped up, blurring the idyllic view and disrupting her daydream.
“Here’s something else I need to show you, sir.” The technician fast-forwarded to a view of a forest. The drone focused on a group of people coming out of the treeline. They all rode horses, both men and women carried weapons, and two men had bodies over their saddles in front of them. They looked up. One man grabbed the large gun slung over his shoulder. His mouth moved as he spoke and aimed at the drone. The young man’s face was a scowl. The ground became smaller in the footage as the drone ascended and the man continued to aim the gun. The man’s shoulder kicked slightly, and the screen blurred white noise.
“What! That rebel has destroyed government property.” Antony shook his head in disgust. “It just shows how stupid they are. And the PM thinks we can negotiate with these anarchists and form an alliance when we surface?” Antony’s political aspirations came to the fore—again. “How, I ask you?”
No one answered. Having spent many years watching the life of those up top, Siobhan had seen it all. The drones showed people in every situation. Not as often of late, as the drones had become irreparable, or had been destroyed. She witnessed the devastation in the cities and the poor state of most people there. But recently she had realised the groups that lived in communities outside of the major cities had a simple and harmonious life. They had gone back to basics and survived; relearned old skills, left the reliance on technology and lived closer to the land. They depended on and supported each other. They even seemed happy. Sure, they were the original Doomsday Preppers, but they had survived, and their lives were fruitful and content. Yet they had to defend themselves. It wasn’t all good out there.
Siobhan had dared to question the truths her teachers had espoused. They had taught her and the other children of the Brains Trust, that those up top were barbarian, and they, the children of those especially chosen by the Government, were the elite who would put the world right when it was time to go up top again, permanently.
But surely not everyone up top was bad?
Siobhan once spoke her thoughts to Antony when they were together, but he shouted her down. Now she dare not speak of her doubts to anyone. She stood silent for a moment, refusing to answer Antony’s question. Perhaps he meant it rhetorically. Dampness built up on her palms.
“So, what about the burned man?” Siobhan crossed her arms over her chest, hiding her sweaty palms. “Are they radiation burns?”
Let’s get back to the point. “Does it mean we’ve a nuclear incident here in Scotland? One of our reactors?”
“No,” Antony said to Siobhan. “Rewind, please.” Antony ordered the technician.
The screen flew back to the footage prior to that showing when Siobhan arrived in the audio-visual room. A white pier jutted out into what looked like a bay and beside it docked a surfaced submarine.
“Where’s this?” Siobhan looked past the submarine to the gently lapping waters and the hills surrounding it.
What a shame. Such a beautiful place.
“It’s Loch Ewe, a deep-sea loch suitable for deep water anchorage. That’s how the sub came in from the North Atlantic Ocean.” The technician turned to face Siobhan as a broad smile crossed his face. “It was a secret base for the military during the Second World War. You can still see the remains of the turrets which housed the heavy munitions.”
“We’ve got to check it out,” Antony said, smothering the technician’s excitement. “Make sure it’s not got a nuke waiting to detonate, or its nuclear power source isn’t leaking. Something has irradiated those submariners. Where’s the nearest settlement?”
“There’s a tiny community at Loch Ewe.” The technician grabbed a folded Ordnance Survey map from the shelf above the screen, opened it and peered closely at it. “But you would have to pass near the bigger, but more secluded, community at Invercharing. You may as well stop there as they know the area better than we do. Sir, if you don’t mind me suggesting it, you may need their assistance.”
Antony stared at the map, his expression tight, lips a thin line.
Siobhan shivered, but she had to ask it, despite Antony’s sure recriminations.
“What’s wrong with that, Antony? It sounds like a very good suggestion.” Siobhan waited as silent moments passed. “Well?”
“Caitlin Murray-Campbell set up the Invercharing Community. Ms Murray-Campbell virtually started the Community movement. She ran Invercharing with her husband, Scott Campbell, a legend of a man. She passed away about five or six years ago and he disappeared into nowhere. Now her children help run it. The oldest son is the spit of his father, or so they say.”
“Well then, they’ll be the best place to start.” She held back the tremor in her voice. “Sounds like they’ll be a good help.”
“Help? You really think so?”
“Don’t be so biased. You haven’t even met them yet.” Siobhan’s hands came down to her sides, balling into fists. She drew deep and brought up courage to face another shouting down from Antony. “They are a resource we should tap into. After all, it affects them too”. She narrowed her eyes at Antony. “I’m coming with you.”
Antony stared her down, breathing hard. She’d backed off once before when revealing her beliefs on community people and their lifestyle, but not now.
“I am the nuclear physicist and head of Nuclear Surveillance. I’ll go to stores and organise the gear we’ll need.” Siobhan stepped out of the audio-visual room before Antony had a chance to reply. She wouldn’t miss this opportunity of going up top.
Not for anything.
