In the third truck, Private Kruger leaned across to the burly NCO sitting opposite.
“Are they trying to kill us, Sarge? What the big hurry?”
The Sergeant indicated out the back of the truck. Behind was some kind of armoured carrier, a cross between a tank and a tanker. Neither man had ever seen a design like it before, but it held the road as if it were defying gravity.
“I bet it’s got something to do with that, soldier.”
Private Kruger stared at the vehicle behind. Its windows were black tinted slits and he narrowed his eyes in an unconscious imitation of its sinister facade.
He couldn’t explain it, but something about the vehicle behind gave him the absolute creeps.
“Listen. Can you get sea sick on land?” He emitted a queasy burp. “I swear I’m going to throw up”.
“You sure that’s what’s making you feel ill?” the Sergeant asked quizzically. The bumping of the truck gave his voice a quivery tone at odds with his stony expression.
“I’ll do what I’m ordered to, Sarge.” Kruger held his superior’s stare, which was no mean feat with all the bouncing around the vehicle was doing. “They don’t send a team like us because some Brigadier broke a nail,” the Sergeant continued grimly. “We get sent to clean up a mess, no matter what it takes.”
“I’ll do what I’m ordered,” Kruger repeated. “I always have.”
12.20
The convoy descended a steep hill and arrived at a double mesh fence, fifteen feet high and topped with rings of vicious barbed wire. Signs every 10 metres warned that this was RESTRICTED GOVERNMENT PROPERTY.
Each had a smaller accompanying notice.
TRESPASSERS WILL INCUR THE SEVEREST PENALTY.
The severest penalty Private Kruger could think of was death. He wondered if that was what the sign meant. It was a bad sign. Private Kruger thought he was pretty clever coming up with that, but wished he hadn’t thought it all the same.
In the middle of the fence was a gate and, behind that, more thick pines.
The trucks ground to a halt. On a pole behind the fence a tiny camera, no bigger than a fist, scanned the small fleet. Kruger wasn’t sure but it seemed to have some kind of laser attached. A group of armed men emerged from the woods and the gate slid open. Silently they checked the vehicles then waved them through.
“Welcome to Pinewood and have a Merry Christmas,” one of them said sourly.
The track led straight into the forest and the convoy followed it, rattling through the trees until the last tail light vanished from sight.
They never came back out.
12.28
There was a knock at the door and a lanky soldier stuck his head into the dormitory.
“Is there a Private James Cruickshank here?”
“Naw man,” Diddy Dave piped up. “He nipped oot fur a Chinese meal.”
Cruickshank sat up on his bed and wearily raised his hand. “That would be me,” he said. “And I’m not a Private. I’m only fifteen.”
“Can you come with me Private? I mean Mr Cruikshank.”
The boy gave his companions a mystified glance. He rolled off the bed, and hurried after the soldier, who had withdrawn his head and was already marching down the corridor.
Diddy Dave and Simon looked at each other.
“You think Cruikshank is in some kind of trouble?” Simon suggested.
“Nah. He’s a wee boot licker. He’d murder his own granny if a High Heid Yin asked him tae”
“Still. It’s a bit funny.”
“You know what’s funny?” Barn was standing beside the window. “There’s a bunch of trucks just pulled into the compound. They’re escorting some kind of… I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
The other boys scurried over to the window and looked out. The area in front of their building was ringed with mud spattered vehicles, a bullet shaped armoured carrier in the middle. Beside each truck, a group of soldiers stood to attention. They weren’t wearing the normal camouflage of the base guards. Instead they were dressed in black uniforms and caps, more like a SWAT team than any regular army unit.
As the children watched, the reinforced doors of Pinewood’s Administration Building opened and a detachment of the base’s own troops marched out to join the newcomers. The officers saluted each other and swapped identification papers. One began talking animatedly to the other but the children couldn’t hear anything. The dormitory’s smoked windows meant that the soldiers couldn’t see that they were being watched, but the reinforced glass blocked any noise coming from outside.
“Can’t you lip read, Simon?”
“From two hundred yards away?”
“Mebbe there’s gonnae be a party,” said Dave pointing at the carrier. “That big van there looks like a fridge wi wheels. You think its carryin booze as a festive treat for the sodjers?”
“Sure Dave,” Simon said. “Maybe they’ve brought Taylor Swift to do a Christmas concert.”
“I did put that on mah list tae Santa.”
“These guys don’t look in a party mood.” Jimmy Hicks frowned. They’re armed to the teeth.”
The officers turned and marched towards the carrier. At their signal a door opened in the vehicle’s massive side. A fork lift truck emerged from the shadows of the Administration Building and whizzed into the circle of vehicles◦– a group of men in blue overalls running alongside.
“Look man. They’ve called in Kwik Fit.”
“Will you be quiet for once Dave?”
Within seconds the overalls had manhandled a metal and glass case out of the carrier and onto the prongs of the fork lift. It reversed, slowly now, and carefully inched its way back to the complex, the men in blue walking on either side.
“Something very peculiar is going on.” Simon took off his glasses and wiped them on his sleeve. “We’ve been here almost a year, right?”
The others agreed.
“In all that time have you ever seen anything delivered?”
“No. Unmarked trucks leave Pinewood at night and bring back supplies the next evening.”
“Look at these guys.” Jimmy Hicks tapped the glass softly. “They’re all holding onto their weapons as if their lives depended on it.”
He looked curiously at the others.
“They’re ready for action.”
12.35
Cruickshank strolled back through the door, unaware of the commotion outside.
“I’ve got a meeting with the base Commander,” he said. “He’s going to brief me and give me clearance to enter Bunker 10.” Though he tried his best to hide it, the boy was fairly glowing with pride. “They’re working round the clock down there,” he continued. “Some big project that can’t wait. Need all the help they can get.”
“They probably want to test some infectious disease on you,” Simon said evenly.
“Nah, they’ll be needin someone tae make cups of tea, man,” Dave smirked.
Cruickshanks ignored them. Barn glanced across at Jimmy Hicks, puzzled.
“If it’s something important, why didn’t they ask you?”
Jimmy Hicks shrugged, envisioning the dark work that might be going on down there. “Maybe it’s because I’ve got a conscience.”