Blaze of Heroes by C.J. Strange

Author:C.J. Strange [Strange, C.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Heartcandies Publishing
Published: 2018-11-19T06:00:00+00:00

13 Penny's Moral Dilemma

It's as if the entire weight of the world has dissolved from my shoulders the moment we're grounded and stationary. And while I know the worst is yet to come, the fact we've made it this far and are still willing to go further is a success in and of itself.

The convoy are getting settled in a glade a half-mile west. Some have tents and shelters, but most are sleeping exposed to the elements of late autumn. The warriors of Nova and members of my own brigade are planted in strategic positions on the camp's perimeter, and will remain there throughout the night. Sleep will be in short supply as we take turns standing watch, using Duncan to send reliable, rapid messages between locations. I'm fully ready to settle down somewhere the festival of Vetrnætr isn't able to find me.

Oliver and I are stationed together with the camper van, so that he can continue to run electrical and communicative diagnostics. I've given him the evening off to decompress after a stressful day on the road. Which is probably why I nearly leap out of my skin when someone says my name from behind me.

“Jesus to fuck!” I exclaim, panting hard. “You're right lucky you didn't get the tip of my steel-toe in your nuts!”

Alfie is laughing, but I expect nothing less. The wanker finds everything funny. “What, you think I was some Basher?”

Despite the tone, I'm grateful for his company. My own little camp feels lonely without not only my brigade mates but the heat and crackle of a fire. We've banned them site-wide to avoid attracting unwanted attention. The last thing we need is for the Sovereignty to track us here and send Branch 9 down in the middle of the bloody night.

“Or some vigilante nutter,” I scoff at him.

“Eh? What's this now?”

I sigh heavily and motion for him to follow me, hauling myself up into my camper. Tesla, asleep on one of the shelves in the wall unit, doesn't even acknowledge our presence. Oliver's WrightTech laptop is still sitting open on the table, and I spin it around so that Alfie can read the KING News story currently displayed.

COWARD CONVOY LAST STRAW FOR VIGILANTE WATCHDOGS, the title boldly proclaims, AS NEWLY-FORGED MILITIA GROUP "M.O.B." ANSWER P.M.'S CALL FOR HIS COUNTRY'S LOYALTY.

“That title's too fucking long, who the fuck let that go to print.” Alfie scowls. “So, wannabe Call of Duty re-enactors?”

“They're calling themselves the Militia of Britain,” I tell him with a poignant roll of my eyes. “Or Men of Britain, depending on whether you read the disgusting version of their biography or the absolutely abhorrent bigoted one.”

Alfie folds his arms over his chest. He's not reading the article, he probably doesn't care to. He makes a point of avoiding KING News at all costs, even for research purposes. “Ew,” he remarks. “So what, they're coming after us now? Coming after a band of like, mums and little kids and their nans and shit?”

“They believe we're aiming to cross at Hastings and they're already on their way down from the Sovereign North.

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