Afterlight

CHAPTER 83
10 years AC
‘LeMan 49/25a’ - ClarenCo Gas Rig Complex, North Sea



Leona tripped, stumbled and spat a curse as she rubbed her barked shin. She could hear the distant rattle of firing and voices screaming. Where she was, at the opposite end of the row of rigs, standing on the main deck of the primary compression platform with Rebecca and Claire, they’d spotted the flicker of a floodlight lancing up from the sea. Leona had decided they should stay where they were, keeping a vigil at this end of their archipelago. Just in case. But then things had suddenly kicked off all the way over there and she cursed the fact they were too far away to be able to help out.
Her feet slammed down the walkway, Rebecca behind her clutching her bra-and-bungee cord catapult - for what it was worth - in both hands. They emerged onto the main deck of the accommodation platform, turned right, skirting the edge of the deck to avoid tangling with any obstacles.
People were spilling out of their cabins, brandishing their home-made weapons, and heading towards the noise. Leona converged with them, pushing and stumbling along the walkway cage towards the second compression platform, towards the sound of gunfire.
She emerged from the cage moments later, and then weaved her way across the platform’s main deck until she could see the far side, and the next walkway. Across the dark empty space between platforms, she watched for a moment. Trying to make out the situation. She saw some flickers of light, and the occasional flash of gunfire, but nothing that clearly explained how things were. She suspected the shots were coming from the furthest platform.
Rebecca hunkered down next to her, wheezing from the sprint thus far.
‘Can you see anything?’
‘I think they’re on drilling. Come on,’ she said, stepping onto the walkway taking them across with the sound of her heavy steps ringing in her ears.
They emerged twenty seconds later onto the firm deck of the production platform into a confusion of panicking people, some scrambling past her to head back along the cage away from the fighting. She pushed her way through the mingling confused bodies and crossed the deck, catching sight of the skirmish going on ahead of her.
Along the edge of the deck she could see Adam and his men, and one or two of the old men - Howard, Bill, Dennis - firing potshots across the void between platforms at the boys on the far side. They, too, were firing back, sparks erupting from the deck, from the vent stacks and deck lockers the men were huddled behind.
She felt a puff of air on her cheek, heard a metallic clang against the metal wall beside her head and a hot spark jumped onto her bare arm.
‘Ouch!’ she yelped before instinctively dropping to her hands and knees. She crawled across the deck until she was huddled beside one of Adam’s men.
She recognised his outline. ‘Bushey! It’s Leona.’
He turned and grinned manically at her before turning back to aim down the barrel of his assault rifle. ‘The little shites surprised us!’ He fired two aimed shots one after the other, the hot bullet casings almost landing in her lap.
‘Where’s my mum?’
‘Dunno, she’s somewhere along here,’ he said, firing again.
Leona craned her neck, looking down along the row of people cowering behind assorted cover, in two groups either side of the walkway cage. She picked out the huddled forms of Walfield, Howard, Sophie and one of her sisters and Dennis. She saw Alice and her friend Rowan both blindly flinging walnut-sized rivets across the void with their catapults. She picked out Adam in the group to the right of the walkway entrance, aiming and firing methodically, Martha loading up a dainty lace bra cup with another projectile.
She looked down the length of the walkway and thought she could pick out the detestable orange flash of those jackets, several of them, lying prone along the first thirty feet of it.
Bodies. They’d already made a first attempt to force their way across it and failed.
On the far side of the walkway, amongst the clutter of the drilling platform’s deck, she saw the strobe-flicker of muzzle flashes from their guns and heads bobbing in and out of sight.
They’re stuck. She found herself grinning. Adam was right. The caged walkways were turning out to be perfect choke-points.
The firing on both sides began to ease off.
She looked around for Rebecca, assuming she was still with her, but she must have gone to ground somewhere else. Leona decided to press on. See if she could find Mum. Taking advantage of the lull in firing, she crawled on hands and knees, from one huddled person to the next, then, waiting for a moment of calm, she leapt across the open space beside the walkway’s entrance and a second later joined the others, hunkering down behind a long and low mechanical store locker, gasping for breath.
Jenny looked down at her, panting on the floor beside her. ‘Lee! Christ! I thought I told you to stay back! Are you all right? You okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ Leona huffed, trying to catch her breath. She swallowed, sucked in more air. ‘What’s happened?’
‘They pulled up in a boat,’ replied Adam. ‘Maxwell tried distracting us. The rest of his boys were already waiting underneath. Then it all kicked off.’ He shook his head angrily. ‘We should have had everyone on that far platform instead of spread out. We might have spotted the rest of them sneaking under.’
Leona pulled herself onto her hands and knees and stole a look round the edge of the storage locker. ‘But they’re stuck there now, right?’
Adam nodded. ‘For now.’ Adam turned to Jenny. ‘There’s no way up onto the other platforms, right?’
She shook her head. ‘The other platforms are much, much higher. They’d need us to lower them something to get aboard.’
‘Then sod it, this is fine,’ he said, trying a reassuring smile on them. ‘We’ve got them plugged right here.’

Maxwell glared at Jay-zee. ‘Are you calling me a liar? Is that it?’
Jay-zee met his challenging stare. ‘Shit, man, you said this place was all powered up. That’s what you f*ckin’ told us!’
A dozen of the praetorians crouching nearby glanced at them, eyes switching from Jay-Zee to Maxwell as they spoke.
‘Man, you tol’ us this place was lit up like some f*ckin’ light show. All I see is the whole thing is dark as shit. There’s no f*ckin’ power here!’
Christ. This is it, thought Maxwell. The bloody challenge. He suspected it was going to come from one of the older boys, if not Edward himself, but not right in the middle of a bloody battle. The alcohol from that sugary fruit crap mixed with what must be a tidal flood of adrenalin surging through his veins had made Jay-zee wired.
Maxwell looked at the others nearby. They were, all of them, wide-eyed, talking ten to the dozen, chomping chewing gum in a dry mouth, stoned on adrenalin and buzzing like violin strings; hungry little tiger cubs looking for a gazelle to pull down and tear apart.
‘You ever talk to me like that again, Jay-zee, I’ll kill you myself!’
The boys recoiled uncertainly.
‘The lights are all out, you idiot, because these people were warned we were coming. They didn’t want to stand out like some f*cking beacon. That’s why everything is off!’
Uncertainty made Jay-zee waver; robbed his defiant posture of some of its challenge.
Something heavy pinged and rattled off a wall near to him. He flinched and ducked. His tall frame made him easier to see than anyone else. He crouched down to make sure his head wasn’t a target that could be picked out from the platform across the gap.
Another clatter nearby. Maxwell ducked this time. A nugget of pitted metal bounced and rolled across the deck and ended up rocking to and fro in front of his foot. Those silly bitches were throwing nuts and bolts at them like frigging peanuts. That would have been laughable if he hadn’t already witnessed one of his boys knocked senseless - left with a gushing cut across his scalp by one of those projectiles.
Jay-zee was still defiant. ‘This place ain’t worth this shit!’
Maxwell pointed up to a bulb dangling above the walkway entrance, and loops of sagging power flex dangling from ties all the way down the wire cage to the far side. ‘See the cables?’
Jay-zee looked up, frowned and nodded.
‘All of you boys?’ Maxwell raised his voice for the benefit of those crouching nearby. ‘Do you see these cables?’
They nodded.
‘It means they’ve got power. All right? Plenty of it. Why else would they be living out here on a bloody rig? They’re tapping oil or gas or whatever’s down there. And I’m telling you now they’ll have more fuel down there than we can ever use! All right?’
Some of the boys began to nod, reassured the Chief knew what he was doing and hadn’t led them down a dead end.
‘In an hour’s time we’ll have this place LIT UP LIKE A F*ckING CHRISTMAS TREE! ALL RIGHT?!!’
Some of their uncertain faces split with grins, the buzz of excitement flooding back.
Maxwell looked for Edward’s face and found him, listening in, and so far staying quiet.
‘Isn’t that right, Edward . . . Snoop?’
The boys all turned as one to look at him, studying his face, his reaction, wanting to know what to think.
‘Am I right?’ said Maxwell.
Snoop finally pursed his lips and shrugged. ‘Yeah, reckon they got power.’
‘Right then.’ Maxwell nodded towards the walkway. The bodies of three of his boys lay there, one behind the other. That little pit bull Notori-us was one of them, charging across like a rabid dog let off a leash, drawing fire and spinning like a cartwheel as he went down. If a few more of his boys had been equally fired-up and been following in his wake they probably would have made it across and already overrun those bitches on the far side by now.
‘So, boys. We need to figure out a way across that. They’ve got it covered.’
Snoop looked around the cluttered deck. Most of the boys were up here now, clustered in groups amongst the Portakabins and looking anxiously at him and Maxwell to figure out something for them. Snoop’s eye rested on a supermarket shopping trolley knocked over on its side, spilling its load of plastic seed trays filled with compost and little green shoots of something-or-other across the deck.
‘Got an idea, Chief.’




Alex Scarrow's books