Without warning

Kipper was nonplussed, but Barney was so agitated and so genuinely concerned that he picked up the candle and led his guest through to the sitting room. He could hear Barb and Suzie playing tea parties upstairs, and thought about calling out that it was almost time for bed. But he kept his mouth shut. Barbara would probably put Suzie down in the next half-hour or so and crawl into bed with her. She’d been doing that most nights since the Disappearance.

The sitting room was dark, and the curtains drawn. A small fire in the hearth threw a flickering glow over the room. Kip blew out the candle he was carrying and placed it on an old plate that was already scummy with melted wax. ‘Welcome to the new frontier,’ he said dryly.

They took seats facing each other across a glass-topped coffee table, covered with Barb’s old magazines. Past editions of New Yorker and Vanity Fair, and the February and March issues of Vogue. None of them would ever be published again.

‘Okay,’ said Kip. ‘What have you got yourself caught up in, Barn?’

Before answering, Tench rubbed his palms on the knees of a pair of jeans that looked like they hadn’t been washed in a long time. ‘Like the arrest warrant says, Kip – the Resistance. That’s what they call themselves. Frankly, I think it’s a dumb name, a bit too Secret Squirrel for me, but there’s a hell of a lot of them out there. Normal people, you know? Some, like me, worked for the city, some used to work for the feds, lots of business people too – but normal, Kip. Really normal people who just don’t like the way this thing, this fucking Disappearance, has been used as an excuse to mess around with stuff, to start cutting off people’s freedoms.’

‘But Barney, we’re not free to live as we did. You can surely see that?’

Tench leaned forward. ‘We’re not free to run our plasma TVs twenty-four hours a day, no. We’re not free to gorge ourselves to death on junk food and Vanilla Coke, no. We’re not free to travel anywhere we want. We’re not free to fill up with gas and drive out to Disneyland. We’re not free from hunger or fear or the threat of being eaten alive by that fucking thing out there, whatever it is. You’re right. None of those freedoms are ours to enjoy anymore. But the basic freedom, Kip – the freedom to say what you think, and to act on it, the freedom to control your own life – that is being taken from us, too.’

Kipper was going to protest, but he had been at the convention when that blow-hard mayor had moved for an amendment to reserve thirty per cent of the congressional seats for the military as an emergency measure. To ensure stability. He’d sniggered when he heard – and then been gobsmacked as one speaker after another rose to support it. And the fact was, the city was still locked down. People were living on handouts and doing as they were told. Food stamps were the new currency. The movement of people and goods was closely vetted by the military. ‘Production Committees’ had been set up to allocate labour and resources where they were most needed. And the local media, although able to work again, was heavily constrained by ‘D Notices’, issued by the Acting Governor but countersigned by General Jackson Blackstone.

‘Barney,’ he said, feeling very uncomfortable, ‘I work with these people every day. Some of them, sure, they’re sons a’ bitches. I wouldn’t trust them with three dollars in change. But I can guarantee you, man, they are not doing these things because they’re all little Hitlers in their hearts – they’re doing it because they’re scared. They’re scared we’re not gonna make it.’

‘We’re not. Not like this. We might survive, but as what? And what about you, Kip? Be honest – do you think it’s a good idea to just rope off a third of Congress for the military?’

‘Well, of course not, Barn,’ the chief engineer admitted. ‘It sucks the big one. But if you’d been there today and seen the chaos on the convention floor… Man, I really don’t know whether that’s the way to go. I just -’

A thunderous hammering interrupted him. Tench blanched, visibly so, even in the poor light, and muttered, ‘Oh God.’

‘Open up,’ called out a harsh voice. ‘It’s the police.’

The two men locked eyes and a whole conversation passed between them without a word being spoken.

Kipper placed a finger to his lips and gestured for Tench to follow him, leading his friend into the hallway and pointing to a door under the stairs that led down to the cellar. Barney needed no telling. He hurried over to the door as the pounding began again.

‘Open up, please. Police.’

‘I’m coming,’ Kipper yelled back. ‘But I’m not breaking a leg for you, so you can just fucking wait.’