Invasion: Uprising by D C Alden

Author:D C Alden [Alden, D C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Double Tap Press
Published: 2020-08-10T04:00:00+00:00

The Hilton Newcastle Gateshead Hotel was located on the southern bank of the Tyne River, between the Tyne Bridge to the east and the high-level railway crossing immediately to the west. Before the invasion, it was an establishment popular with shoppers, wedding parties, and professional footballers on a night out, and one of the few hotels to have escaped the violence and destruction as caliphate forces had descended on the city prior to the border war. As they’d returned defeated, still the hotel had remained untouched, commandeered instead as an upmarket accommodation venue for the caliphate’s more senior army officers. Throughout the occupation, it had maintained its status, although now most of its guests were traitors and quislings from the Regional Assembly, including senior local cops who policed the city by consent of the caliphate.

‘A den of vipers,’ Roz muttered as she shut off the van’s engine. None of the seven armed and masked men sat behind her said anything. There was no need, because Roz was merely stating the obvious. Newcastle was a divided city, split between those who had embraced the opportunities the fall of Europe had presented, and those who had no choice but to deal with it. The former group comprised local politicians, business people, and civil servants, most of whom had asked how high when told to jump by their new masters. But not all.

In the weeks after the border war, some had rebelled against the invaders. To the horror of most decent Geordies, those rebels were executed on the pitch inside St. James’ Park football stadium, along with several dozen captured British soldiers. The authorities had removed the goalposts in front of the Gallowgate stand and replaced them with a row of thick wooden stakes. That day, 123 men and women were shot, and those few hundred local citizens forced to watch had never forgotten. Roz had been one of those witnesses and had seen her husband’s torso ripped apart by the firing squad’s bullets. Jed’s mum and dad had been murdered too, a tragedy that had brought them together. Only death would part them now.

Roz leaned over the wheel of the van, her eyes roaming the night outside. She’d parked beneath an arch of the Tyne railway bridge, unseen in its black shadows. Between the arch and the hotel, a wintry wind drove silver sheets of rain across the service area. The security lights were few, and staff smokers were nowhere to be seen, which didn’t surprise Roz. They were probably too busy servicing the meeting that was being held in the Windows on the Tyne restaurant on the top floor of the hotel.

The governor of the North-East Territories had gathered his assembly of traitors together, no doubt to address their concerns. Ireland had been liberated and Alliance troops were landing in Scotland. The frontier was only eight kilometres away, just beyond the former Newcastle International Airport, now a sprawling military camp. North of that installation lay the oceans of razor wire, the fields of land mines, the surveillance towers, and the hunter drones.

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