Their Darkest Hour (34 page)

“And if I chose to stay like this?”  He asked, finally.  “I could...”

“You wouldn't recover any function in your lower arm or your hand,” Fatima said, flatly.  She didn't really blame him for refusing to realise the truth.  Humans hated losing parts of their bodies.  Trauma victims never fully recovered.  “You would be left with a useless dangling piece of flesh - one that would have to be bound to your body at all times.  My best advice is to have it taken off, which would at least prevent the wound from becoming infected.”

“Take it off, them,” he said, finally.  He smiled, although Fatima could see the pain written over his face.  “I guess there’s no hope of a proper rest afterwards?”

“Probably not,” she said, as she prepared the local anaesthetic.  He should have been put out completely, but she preferred to avoid doing that if possible.  They had had to abandon two other makeshift hospitals and unconscious patients were difficult to move.  “Just lie back and let me get on with it.”

An hour later, she headed downstairs and washed her hands under the shower.  The small apartment had been abandoned, according to Abdul and his men, which made it an ideal place for a resistance cell.  Fatima hoped that they were right, if only because she didn't want to have to abandon her patients.  Most of the wounded resistance fighters were scattered over London, but the seriously wounded fighters were kept near her.  She was their doctor, after all. 

She sat down on the sofa and closed her eyes, fighting back tears.  As a medical student, and then as a doctor, she’d taken pride in her work.  She’d saved lives.  Men and women who would have died a century ago had lived because of her – and the medical knowledge of hundreds of years.  Now...she hated doing a bad job, but the truth was that there were limits to what she could do without proper equipment and supplies.  Many of her patients needed a real hospital, not a makeshift set of beds which they might need to flee at any time.  She’d asked if they could find a way to slip a patient into a real hospital, but Abdul had vetoed the idea.  The aliens had insisted that the NHS doctors check their patients details and if they stumbled across a resistance fighter...

Fatima shook her head, wondering – again – what had happened to her family.  There’d been no announcement of their fate on the BBC, just a terrible silence that was somehow far more terrifying than anything else.  Anything could have happened to them – the aliens could have killed them, or enslaved them, or simply dumped them in a detention camp outside the city.  After the bloody slaughter the aliens had unleashed, few dared to ask them – or to demand that the prisoners be returned to their families.  For all she knew, they could have been shipped to Africa and dumped there. 

The only thing keeping her from crying was the knowledge that her patients needed her – for all the good she could do for them.  She had to watch many of them die because she didn't have the equipment to save them – and as they died, a little of herself died as well.  If they hadn't needed her, she would have volunteered to drive the next truck loaded with explosives into the alien base.  And that would be the end of her.

“Hey,” a soft voice said, “are you all right?”

Fatima glanced up to see Lucas, a young man who’d been serving the resistance as a runner, ever since his family had been caught up in the invasion and killed.  He’d wanted to join the fighters, but his knowledge of the area made him far more useful as a runner.  Or so he’d been told.  Privately, Fatima suspected that Lucas wouldn't have made a good fighter.  He only wanted to hurt the aliens and didn't care if he got hurt himself.

And he was attracted to her.  She found him attractive too, and attentive, but how could she afford more emotional ties with anyone?  Her family was gone, perhaps dead...anyone else she invited into her heart might go the same way.  She didn't dare take the chance.

“Just tired,” she said, pulling herself to her feet.  She should have a rest, but there was no way she could sleep long enough for it to do her any good.  “And yourself?”

“I got told to bring you a warning,” Lucas said.  “The aliens did a sweep through a few blocks a mile or so away.  They may have caught someone who knows about this place.”

Fatima swallowed a curse.  Her stepmother would have slapped her if she’d realised that Fatima even
knew
such a word.  The aliens had the services of the police – and the police knew how to get suspects to talk and implicate more people.  If they knew who they’d bagged, they might uncover the makeshift medical centre.  Abdul had made it clear that no one – even himself – was to know everything, but the aliens might uncover more than one cell if they managed to capture the medical centre.

And three of her patients really shouldn’t be moved.

“Go tell the patients upstairs that we might have to move,” Fatima ordered.  Given time, she was sure that she could get all of the patients out, but could they do it without alerting the aliens and their collaborators?  “Is anyone else coming to help?”

“The Big Man says he’s sending some of his men,” Lucas said.  He grinned.  When he wasn't passing on messages, he spent most of his time with the soldiers.  They were teaching him tricks he might need when he finally joined the fight.  “Anyone who can't move under his own power will be helped.”

Fatima nodded.  And after that, she knew, they’d leave an IED behind, just in the hopes of bagging an alien or a few collaborators.  They’d done it before.  Abdul had pointed out that creating an impression of a network of IEDs slowed down enemy deployment, even if there were only a handful of real IEDs in the area.  It had worked in Afghanistan and now it was working in London.  Absently, she wondered how men who’d fought in Afghanistan liked using their enemy’s tactics against the enemy of the entire planet? 

“Come on then,” she said.  “Let's start moving the patients.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

Alien Detention Camp

United Kingdom, Day 36

The first few days in the detention camp were unpleasant.  Alex wasn't sure why the aliens hadn't bothered to provide shelters for their prisoners, which meant that when it rained – as it did every night – the bedding became soaked and refused to dry until the morning.  A number of the prisoners were already suffering from exposure and were at death’s door, but the aliens didn't seem concerned.  When she was feeling charitable, which wasn't very often, Alex guessed that the aliens
liked
the rain and believed that the humans would like it too.  The other explanation was that the aliens were deliberately torturing their captives and breaking their will to resist.  It seemed as likely as any other possibility.

She had spent the first day studying the alien base, what little she could see of it from behind the wire.  It seemed to be a small military base, although it was definitely not as active as Bastion or any of the other major bases she’d deployed to before the aliens had invaded and turned the entire planet upside down.  Judging from the way they’d extended the wire several times since the invasion – several of the prisoners admitted to have been behind the wire since day one – they might just have intended it as a prison for rebellious types. 

The next few days had been worse.  She’d wondered endlessly who’d betrayed them – and why?  Had the traitor been terrified for his life, or the lives of his family – or had he merely wanted thirty pieces of silver?  The conditions outside the cities were better than inside the cities – at least if the internet was to be believed – but no one had been very safe.  Perhaps the traitor, hearing stories about entire towns being blasted from orbit for daring to harbour resistance fighters, had decided that Long Stratton would be left unmolested if the resistance was handed over to the aliens.  Absently, she wondered if Archer or any of the others had made it out safety, or if they’d been caught by the aliens.  She tried to form mental pictures of them blasting their way through entire alien formations, but she had to admit that they weren't particularly likely.  Archer had suggested heading into the national parks or other undeveloped parts of Britain and setting up long-term bases there.  She hoped – prayed – that they managed to get out and carry on the fight.  They would have to do it without her.

Every time she heard a noise in the sky, she looked up, wondering what she would see.  Sometimes she saw the massive shuttles the aliens used to land troops from orbit, too large to fly without some kind of antigravity device; sometimes their attack helicopters, larger than the outdated Russian helicopters that had been flown around Afghanistan.  She allowed herself to hope that one day she’d see a streak of light shooting down one of the helicopters, but the resistance seemed to be very thin on the ground around the detention camp.  The aliens, according to some of the older prisoners, had simply uprooted thousands of humans and ordered them away from their bases.  Remembering some of the havoc caused by dickers – civilians who reported British military movements to the enemy – in Afghanistan, Alex couldn't blame them, even though the mobile phone network had never been restored. 

She shook her head.  The Taliban had never scored a major victory, but they’d kept up the pressure and they might have won in the long term – if the aliens hadn't invaded.  But the Coalition had been bound by rules of engagement dreamed up by decent – if ignorant – politicians.  The aliens didn't seem to care about civilian casualties and they were perfectly willing to obliterate entire towns to punish resistance.  Weaker forces had defeated stronger forces before – or had at least convinced them to withdraw – but Alex couldn't remember if they’d ever done it when the stronger forces had also been the barbarians.

When the call came, it took her by surprise.  A pair of aliens were standing by the gate, bellowing for her in their toneless voices.  She hesitated, considering hiding within the crowd, before realising that it was pointless.  Bracing herself, she strode out with as much dignity as she could muster and stopped in front of the aliens.  One of them pointed his cannon-like weapon at his chest, as if he imagined that she was a threat.  Alex couldn't keep the giggles from forming deep inside her chest.  She was half-naked, half-starved and completely unarmed...and he thought she was a threat?

“Turn around and place your hands behind your back,” the alien ordered.  Alex obeyed, unsurprised to feel a metal tie contracting around her wrists.  They weren't taking any chances, all right.  Their voices were almost robotic.  “Walk with us.  Do not attempt to escape.”

The alien strung her around and marched her towards the gate, which clanged shut behind them.  Despite her growing nervousness, Alex was privately glad of the chance to inspect the rest of the base.  A number of human-designed buildings were still intact, but others had clearly been knocked down and were being replaced by prefabricated alien buildings.  She caught sight of what looked like a futuristic car at the end of one building, before her escort marched her onwards, half-pulling her whenever she tried to slow them down.  The sound of alien voices speaking what had to be their own language – it sounded like grunting to her ears – caught her attention and she looked up.  A small group of aliens was staring at her, their dark eyes wide.  Surely she wasn't the first human they’d seen...

And these aliens were smaller.  For a moment, she wondered if they were children, before realising that they were differently proportioned than her escort.  Alien females?  She’d assumed that the aliens had their own version of keeping women barefoot, pregnant and in the kitchen, but maybe they made better use of female labour than some human societies.  Their clothing was different too...she wondered, absently, how the aliens mated, before pushing the thought aside.  It was clear that she was about to have far more serious problems.

A human designed building loomed up in front of her and the aliens pushed her right into the darkness.  For a moment, Alex was completely disorientated before her eyes adjusted to the gloom.  There was a chair in the centre of the room, bolted to the floor, and the aliens pushed her down onto the cold metal.  She yelped as they stubbed her bound wrists, before, fixing a bar around her chest and walking away.  The door closed behind them with an audible clunk.

“Well, well, well,” a voice said, from the darkness.  “What have we here?”

Alex started, peering ahead of her.  In the gloom, she could make out two figures, both clearly human.  They didn’t
seem
to be restrained.  The light came on suddenly, almost blinding her.  The two men definitely weren't restrained.  Alien collaborators...or something else?  But what else could they be?

“Who...?”  Her throat was dry.  She could barely speak.  “Who are you?”

“Our names aren't important,” one of the men said.  They were both wearing masks to cover their identities, but the speaker was clearly taller than the other.  “All that really matters is satisfying our masters.”